Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4308393.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, (barely_there)_Stiles_Stilinski/Malia_Tate
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Lydia_Martin, Malia_Tate
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Werecreatures, Werecreatures_are_Known, Werecoyote
      Stiles_Stilinski, Mechanic_Derek, First_Time, Underage_Sex, Dubious
      Consent, Bribery/Blackmail, Jealous_Derek, Pregnancy_Scare, Love
      Confessions, Falling_In_Love, Claiming_Bites, Marking, Happy_Ending,
      Dirty_Talk, Phone_Sex, Sexting, Masturbation, Sex_Toys, Panty_Kink,
      Insecure_Stiles_Stilinski, Angry_Sex, Prompt_Fic, Gift_Fic
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-10 Completed: 2015-08-11 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 29512
****** Thursday Affair ******
by littlefrog1025
Summary
     Stiles' jeep is in the shop, once again, and Derek is the sexy
     mechanic tasked with fixing it.
Notes
     For Mulder200 who wanted some PWP with mechanic!Derek and
     broke!Stiles.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** 1st Thursday *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles' jeep is in the shop, once again, and Derek is the sexy
     mechanic tasked with fixing it.
===============================================================================
His dad offered to buy him a new car. Nothing special, just a Kia_Soul, or
Prius, but Stiles refuses, not willing to part just yet with his beloved baby
blue_jeep. It was his mother’s car.
So, here he is, for the 7th time in two months at the mechanic's, because he
was halfway to Scott’s house when the jeep sputter, jerked, then died in the
middle of the street, right in front of nosy Mrs. Rockwood’s house.
It’s night. The garage closes at eight, and Stiles made it just in time after
practice to get in and hopefully get his car back. Riding on the back of
Scott’s_dirt_bike with him has not been an experience he’s enjoyed for the last
four days.
“Hello! Sorry, I’m late! I was at school and stupid Finstock made us run until
Greenberg puked and…”
A man in dirty, oily coveralls appears from the small,_lit_office in the back.
He’s about Stiles’ height, maybe an inch or two taller, with hair dark as
charcoal and a well-trimmed beard to match. Only the leg portion of his grey-
blue coveralls rest comfortably on his body, the top half hangs off his waist.
The tight, V-neck T-shirt spotted with soot and grime reveals a bit of dark
chest hair on large pecs, and his long, rough-looking fingers give way to a
good amount of time spent using his hands for hard work.
“Jesus,” Stiles says under his breath.
The man gives a ravenous grin, indicating he heard Stiles.
Fucking werewolves.
“Thank God that guy never coached basketball when I was at BHHS.”
“Small mercies, huh,” Stiles responds, trying to keep his cool in front of the
sexy mechanic.
“I’d say so. You the blue jeep?”
“Yeah. So, uh, w-what’s going on with my car? Do you know?”
“At the moment, nothing. I fixed the issue. For now anyway.”
“You fixed it?! You fixed my baby?!”
“Yes, but it won’t last long. She’s got a good 3 months left in her, if you
take care of her properly, but yeah, until then she’ll be fine.”
Stiles can’t hear him; too busy hugging the hood of his jeep. “Oh, girl, you
pulled through. I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”
The mechanic can’t help but smile at his ridiculousness. “I’m pretty sure I
helped while all she did was lie there,” he says with a cheeky grin.
“Yes! And thank you, too! Means the fucking world! You have no idea!”
The mechanic simply shrugs.
“Okay, well how much do I owe you, dude,” Stiles asks, fishing his wallet from
his gym bag.
The mechanic pulls a folded yellow paper from his pocket and hands it to
Stiles. Stiles opens it; an invoice…for $2,500!
“What the actual fuck…? Is-Is this the total, or a serial number?”
“You ever see a serial number that short?”
“I can’t pay this! I promised my dad that I’d take care of it! I don’t make
that much tutoring brain dead jocks and babysitting! I don’t have two grand,
dude!” Stiles hopes the defeated and near-tears he’s about the shed can break
something in the insanely hot mechanic.
“I’ll tell you what—”
Yes!
“—we’ll come up with a payment plan or something. I mean, that’s not entirely
unheard of, right?”
There's something of a predatory purr in his tone, but all Stiles can hear is
common ground. “Right. Okay. I can give you three hundred in cash now, and like
thirty bucks a week. I know that’s barely anything, but like I said, man, I am
not an esteemed member of the Whittemore family, or like a Hale or something.”
“You’re not a Hale,” the mechanic says in a teasing tone with one eyebrow
cocked upward.
“Do I look like a dark-haired goddess that was engineered in a lab? No, I’m not
a Hale.”
The mechanic chuckles. It’s a secretive, attractive laugh that feels like he
should be smoking a cigarette and leaning against the side of a building
catcalling women as they pass by. Stiles wouldn't mind knowing what the hidden
smirk is about, but right now, he’s more focused on getting his jeep back in
his possession.
“Look, you can totally trust me to pay, too, because my dad is Sheriff
Stilinski, and if I even miss a payment you can run right to him and he’ll
string me up by my ankles.”
“That won’t be necessary. I know you’ll be good for payment.”
He crosses toward Stiles, standing right in front of him, eyes clouded in
something that seems mysterious, yet determined. Stiles stares right into the
kaleidoscope of green and gold peering back at him. “So, uh, 30 bucks a week is
okay?”
“…No.”
“Forty then?”
“I don’t exactly want money.” He brushes his hand through Stiles’ hair.
And Stiles can barely breathe right now because the hot mechanic has him caged
against his jeep with his arms on either side of him, breath ghosting against
his lips that are close enough all he would have to do is dip his head and his
lips could brush right against Stiles' own.
He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Wh-What do you want? Last time I checked,
money was pretty good currency when used in a formal transaction.”
“Well, then we’ll make this as informal as possible.” He steps closer, pushing
right up against Stiles; his thigh right between Stiles’ legs. “You smell
really good…”
Stiles pushes away. His common sense coming back to him. “Are you out of your
mind?! I’m not trading sex with you over a bill!”
“Then it’s $2,500, little coyote,” he says, no longer looking amused.
“You think you’re just going to proposition me, the sheriff’s son, his 16 year
old son, and that'll be that,” Stiles can’t help but gape at the audacity.
He shrugs. Just…shrugs. Like it’s nothing. “If you were that offended you would
have left by now. Or called your daddy to come save you.”
Stiles knows he’s baiting him…and he’s doing a damn good job of it. “So, I fuck
you, or I don’t get my car?”
“Not unless you have $2,500. I don’t do work for free.”
“Is this a thing with you? A routine? You try this out on bored housewives all
day?”
The mechanic enters his personal space again. “Why? You want to know if you’re
special?”
Goddamn him. Because as disgusting as this is, he does. He wants to know if
he’s the only one.
“You are, sweetie. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten my ‘special’ offer.”
Stiles glares daggers at him.
“It’s not that difficult a decision. Pay me, how I’d like to be paid, or you
can tell daddy how much the bill is and he can say no, then scrap this heap of
blue metal. Maybe he'll get you something nice and safe, like a Kia," the
mechanic snickers.
“He’d believe me. If I told him about this little conversation, he’d believe
me.”
“I know. But you won’t tell him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you smell like a giant candy cane. You're not bothered in the least.”
Fucking. Werewolves. And fuck his dick for having its own agenda. He could. He
could tell his dad, the mechanic will get arrested for propositioning a minor
and bribery, and he’d get his jeep without so much as opening his wallet… Or…
“Why me? I mean, have you taken a look at all this,” he motions to himself.
“Yes,” he smiles at Stiles. “I like what I see. A lot.”
“Or you like preying on the weak and saw an easy target with a scrawny
werecoyote.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay. Look, if you’re going to get your insecurities all
over me, I’d rather call this quits. Just take the invoice and come back in the
morning and work out a real payment plan with my boss. I want to fuck you, not
listen to you whine, Carrie Bradshaw.”
The Sex and the City reference doesn’t escape him, but the irritated tone he
has and the distance he puts between them is more so at the front of his
attention.
“Either way, it’s $2,500. I just thought you’d like to pay for it in a
more…creative way.”
He makes to return to the office when—
Stiles attacks his mouth! He’s all want and passion, no technique.
The alluring mechanic slows down the kiss, bringing some finesse to it. His
lips press hot and warm against Stiles’ mouth. They part slightly and his
tongue slides in smoothly. Stiles accepts it, gentle and wet, then presses his
own tongue against the mechanic's, tasting him and the strawberry milkshake he
had during his lunch break.
The mechanic deepens the kiss; hand carded though chestnut brown hair. Stiles
digs fingernails into bulky shoulders with a satisfied moan in his mouth along
with the werewolf's tongue.
“This can not be happening…” Stiles moans. This is the type of situation you
read in Neckz-N-Throatz, or watch on one of those ‘werecreatures after dark’
channels that show soft core porn, with some ridiculous plot that could never
happen in real life.
The mechanic licks into his mouth, teasing, filthy, and his knees give. He
sinks and is caught by the muscular, hard thigh between him. He can’t help the
roll of his eager hips and grinds down on him. And that's when reality rears
it's ugly head again. “Okay, dude, stop,” he pushes the man away from him,
creating some distance. “What the hell is going on?”
“Well, I thought we were about to fuck…” he says, eyeing Stiles like he’s the
one that’s lost all sense.
“Got that, but why again exactly?”
“Because I have a thing for werecoyotes.” He yanks Stiles forward, pressing
them close again.
“Must be a pretty strong ‘thing’ if you’re willing to accept sex as payment
from a 16 year old virgin.”
“It’s not just that, smart-ass. You also smell so—neck kiss—so—neck kiss—good.”
Another neck kiss. “And you’re fucking adorable.”
Stiles’ eyes fade gold, and he takes in the earthy, hazy scents of beachwood,
cedar, rain water, fresh apples, smoke, and car oil. “So do you.”
Strong hands slide down his sides and find his ass, gripping it hard, as teeth
scrape against his pulse point.
“Oh, fuck! Wait.” Stiles pushes away again and receives a growl for the
offense.
“I’m starting to think you’re a tease…or you just don’t want to.”
“What’s your name, asshole?”
The mechanic pulls him close again. “Derek. My name is Derek. And according to
the driver’s license you gave Peter when your car was towed here, your name is
something really horrible, and unpronounceable.”
“Stiles. Just Stiles.”
“Okay. Stiles? Stop talking,” Derek says before crashing their mouths together
again.
Derek opens the door to the car they’re leaning against, a sleek, black ’58
Chevy_Impala_Convertible. Their lips stay glued together as Derek hauls Stiles
into the backseat with him. Derek lies back along the seats, Stiles straddling
him. Derek sits up, hands under Stiles’ BHHS Track & Field T-shirt. He pinches
Sties’ nipple and the werecoyote breaks their kiss for a lewd moan.
“You like that?”
Stiles’ brain is offline; all he can do is nod.
Derek pinches his other nipple and watches Stiles’ face turn pliant into
ecstasy. He takes off his T-shirt and licks at Stiles’ right nipple.
“Oh, fuck…” Stiles’ hands tighten in Derek’s raven-colored hair and he grinds
down on him, pressing his leaking erection into the werewolf’s abs.
“Take my shirt off.”
Stiles doesn’t think twice and removes Derek’s shirt. “Holy shit! Do you live
at the gym or something?”
Derek tosses his shirt into the front seat. “Calm down.” He lifts Stiles,
keeping him in his lap, as he turns them so he faces the steering wheel, and
Stiles faces him. “I think you’re very fucking sexy as well.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Do we need to rehash the whole reason we’re in this car right now? Are we not
about to have sex?”
“About that…I just want to remind you that, you know, I’m not exactly
experienced, and if it’s not—”
Derek closes his speech off with an intense kiss, all tongue and teeth.
Stiles’ eyes brighten gold again and teeth gnash into fangs. Stiles can taste
blood. Their pointed teeth causing a problem with their hungry kissing.
Derek lifts Stiles from his lap. The werecoyote’s mind a daze as he’s shifted
over Derek’s shoulder and he works Stiles’ track pants and underwear off.
Stiles gains enough sense to help with his shoes. He pulls down Derek’s
coveralls, then hesitates with his briefs for a moment.
Derek waits patiently.
Stiles’ hand slips inside and cups Derek’s bulge.
The werewolf moans, creating a boastful smile on Stiles’ face. Stiles strokes
up the shaft in a long, leisurely pace, pulling back the foreskin and feeling
the exposed head, wet with precum. “You’re so big.”
“You scared?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll try not to hurt you.”
Stiles pleads with whatever deity might be out there, that they tell him how
exactly he got in this predicament, or why? Well, he knew why: almost two
hundred pounds of sexy bulk, magnetic eyes, smoldering, asshole grin, and a
lush beard which Stiles has always had a thing for.
Derek bites the hell out of Stiles’ neck, and the coyote howls in both pleasure
and pain.
“I can’t wait to eat you out next time.”
Next time?
“What kind of payment plan is one-and-done,” he smirks, reading Stiles’ mind.
Stiles’ grip on Derek's cock tightens with the promise of Derek rimming
him…next time.
“Take them off.” Derek lifts up as Stiles slides his underwear off his ass, his
thighs, then his knees. Derek is about 10-inches; thick, uncut, and with a
long, angry vein that nearly runs the length of the shaft.
Stiles grips Derek’s dick with the same hard touch he enjoys when touching his
own self, because quite frankly, he doesn’t know how he even should. The only
hand he’s ever had on a penis until now has just been his own. He strokes easy
at first, watching as Derek closes his eyes and his head falls back on the
seat.
“Is that okay,” he asks, a little embarrassed he has to.
“You’re doing fine,” Derek says with a grin, eyes still closed.
Stiles moves his hand a little faster, grips a little tighter, and sweeps his
thumb over the head. Derek encourages him with deep groans and breathy moans.
Stiles places pressure on his frenum—
“Oh, shit!” Derek’s claws snap out and his hand wraps around Stiles’ wrist. For
a brief moment, he thinks Derek’s about to break it in half. Wordlessly, Derek
lets go of his wrist and stares hard into his eyes. “If you kept doing that
this would have been over in seconds.”
Stiles gives a smug grin and shrugs, like a proper jackass.
Derek smirks back before grabbing Stiles' hand and spitting into it. Twice.
Stiles wishes they had lube, because this is so vulgar…and turning him on so
much his dick is twitching, desperate to be touched. Stiles watches as Derek
use his hand to slick his cock.
Stiles heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. He’s moments
away from losing his virginity. He’s never been so excited, and so terrified.
“Relax.”
“Were you relaxed when you lost your virginity?”
Derek smiles, a blinding sure smile. “No, but it’ll be far less an enormous
experience if you trust me.” He lifts Stiles up, lining his cock against
Stiles’ entrance. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, holding tight.
Derek slowly, ever so slowly, breaches Stiles’ hole. Stiles gasps and tugs hard
on Derek’s hair. He feels a tight, warm pressure that spreads little by little
the further Derek pushes into him.
They should be using a condom. Jesus. All the lectures from my dad…
Derek’s cock is halfway inside him and Stiles is seeing stars. This isn’t going
to last long, he thinks, because Christ, it feels good.
Derek gradually bottoms-out with a moan sounding a lot like Stiles’ name.
Stiles nearly weeps at how full and content he feels with Derek completely
inside him, as though his body has been waiting for him all this time. Stiles
kisses him.
Derek smacks his ass cheek, playfully telling the younger man to move.
Stiles rolls his hips a little; a trial to see just how well he could move. It
takes every ounce of strength he has not to come in that instant. “This is
going to be over a lot quicker than you're used to.”
“Then we should really make it count.”
Stiles takes Derek’s words as permission to let loose. They’ll do this again.
Soon... Maybe...but for now he simply wants, and wants badly. He holds Derek’s
shoulders. Derek’s hands massage his waist, and Stiles lifts up and down the
length of Derek’s dick at an easy rhythm.
“Oh, fuck, Stiles… You’re so tight…” Derek bites his lip and Stiles moans at
just how sexy it is that he’s driving the beta wolf so crazy. He wants Derek
aching just like him, moaning and whimpering, crying and begging. He wants to
know he did that. So he bounces, speeding up his pace a bit, dragging his pink
pucker along Derek’s cock.
Derek’s hold on his hips tightens. He matches the wanton sounds Stiles shouts
with feral growls and groans.
Derek moves a hand to Stiles’ cock, jerking him off in time with his movements.
Stiles keeps bouncing up and down on Derek’s lap, but his eyes are filling with
tears and there’s a humming starting at his toes and traveling up his body. It
houses in his spine and Stiles’ claws dig into Derek’s shoulders. His head
tilts back and eyes shut tight as he swivels the lower half of his body faster,
chasing that hum caught in his vertebrae.
Derek’s hand around his dick meets his rhythm.
“Oh, God! Derek!”
“Come for me.”
As if on command, that visiting tingle in his back breaks free and explodes
through his whole body. He’s screaming Derek’s name at the top of his lungs, no
doubt being heard all the way at the end of the block at the library.
Derek holds him in his arms, and fucks into him with a greedy, angry pace. It’s
too much and Stiles tries to squirm and wiggle away, but Derek is too strong,
he’s too weak, and it’s no fucking use. “Fuck. If I knew you’d feel this good,
smell this good when you come...”
“Derek. Please,” Stiles begs. He’s between utter pleasure and crippling ache.
He can’t tell the difference between feeling good and feeling miserable.
Derek pushes up, onto something. Some button inside him that makes Stiles taut,
and feel near-death. He won’t stop, fucking without abandon, growling like an
animal in Stiles’ ear.
“Please. Please,” he begs again, not knowing for what anymore. His face is wet
with tears. Derek’s clawed hand rips into the headrest of the driver’s seat,
the other keeps its firm grasp around Stiles’ waist. Derek fucks hard one,
twice, three times into Stiles before hurriedly pulling out and coming all over
his anus. Stiles, comes, too, making a sticky, wet mess on Derek’s stomach a
second time.
Derek slouches back, breathing heavy and hard; Stiles against his chest, trying
to find his breath, too.
Derek pets Stiles' sweat-soaked hair. “You okay?”
Stiles lifts his head from Derek’s shoulder. He slaps him across the face!
“Bastard!”
Being the cocky asshole he is, Derek just laughs.
Stiles on the other hand grabs his shoes and his clothes, then pushes his way
out of the car!
“Where you going?”
“Home, jerk,” he answers, getting dressed.
“You mad at me, baby?”
Stiles scoffs, trying to pretend he doesn’t enjoy the nickname. “I’m assuming
we’re good here?”
“For now.”
“My keys then,” he says, holding out his hand.
That smug grin won’t leave Derek’s face. He fishes through his coveralls,
pulling out Stiles’ car keys with the Star Wars keychain on them. He drops them
in Stiles’ hand and snatches his wrist before he can move away. “Thursdays.
That’s when I close up by myself.” His thumb rubs against Stiles pulse and the
werecoyote wants badly to calm his heartbeat down. “Or we can meet at a hotel?”
The idea of Derek fucking him voraciously on clean linen and a soft mattress
makes his face blush pink. Classic cars are fine, but nothing would beat a bed
and room service afterward. “Maybe. If I decide not to turn you in to my dad.”
“And say what, little coyote? That the big, bad wolf fucked you so good it
hurt?”
Stiles snatches his arm away. “You’re gross.”
“You like it.” Werewolves can detect lies, so keeps quiet, refusing to admit
truth just as well as tell a fib. “You really do smell amazing. See you next
Thursday,” he winks.
Stiles climbs into his jeep. He fights the whine that wants to escape through
his teeth when he hops down on his sore ass. Derek’s eyes don’t leave him as he
starts his car. The werewolf grabs a small remote control from his coveralls’
pocket and points it at the garage’s sliding door. The door lifts up and Stiles
pulls toward it, waiting for the gap to widen enough for him to drive through.
He catches Derek giving him a wave as he speeds away, turning into the street.
He heads straight home, thankful his dad is working a double. He showers the
moment he’s inside the house, and tells himself the reason he doesn’t use soap
isn’t to keep the smell of a certain werewolf still perfuming on his skin.
He eats the leftover chicken_and_mushroom_dish he made last night and watches
the next episode of Orphan Black on the DVR.
Around midnight, he climbs in bed with his cellphone to set his alarm for
school and text his dad that he’s going to bed, when two text messages pop up.
+7075550911: This is Derek
+7075550911: Marriott hotel in Blue Lake. Thursday @ 7:00pm ;)
Blue Lake was right next to Beacon Hills, and even smaller. He figures Derek
picked it to be discreet, because you can’t exactly have an illicit, illegal
affair birthed out of bribery with the sheriff’s teenage son, and not have
someone in town notice.
STILES: And if I don’t show?
+7075550911: You’re such a tease. You’re lucky I like a little resistance ;)
STILES: You truly are despicable.
+7075550911: Well, then maybe you can teach me how to be a good boy like you
next Thursday…
Stiles' body flushes hot at the thought of riding Derek again and praising him
with soft whispers of “good boy” commendment.
+7075550911: Goodnight, little coyote.
Stiles tries to tell himself he saves Derek’s number just in case. In case this
gets too heavy, too intense, too not-right. In case Derek is violent, or
possessive (like most wolves), or a liar. In case he’s just plain crazy. He has
to be to want Stiles. To want him this badly, this much. To want to see him
again and kiss his mouth, fuck him dirty, leaving him open and wet and sore.
He’s decided. Derek is insane. Mental patient insane.
So, Stiles needs to keep a close eye, make sure his crazy doesn’t escalate and
run wild. Make sure he doesn’t go back on his word and leave Stiles trapped in
something he can’t get out of.
That’s why he saves his number. Not because of the strong, heady taste of
werewolf still lingering in his mouth. That he just might want to savor again.
One more time. Next Thursday.
***** 7th Thursday *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles is disturbed by something he finds out about Derek.
Chapter Notes
     Questions, comments-- hit me up! :)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
Stiles does show up at the hotel after tutoring Liam Dunbar and two other
lacrosse players in pre-Calculus at the library for two and a half hours.
There’s an anticipation and fear in his gut that’s somewhat relieved when Derek
opens the door with that shit-eating grin of his and a beer in his hand.
Stiles comes in. Derek offers him a beer. He has three. Nervous for some
reason, and needing to loosen up. He readies to down his fourth, when Derek
says “that’s enough, coyote,” and pulls him toward the bed.
They make-out for what feels like hours, leaving Stiles feeling dizzy and
wanting more. Derek plays close attention to his neck, but Stiles reminds him
not to leave hickeys there. He swears he actually hears the werewolf whine when
he says not to.
Derek makes good on his promise to rim Stiles, eating him out like he’s a
delicacy on a silver platter. Stiles comes so hard, screaming so loud, he
blacks out.
When he comes to, Derek is rocking into him at a leisurely pace; all proud,
cocky smiles when his eyes flutter open. Stiles is too limp to do much but
enjoy the view of Derek sliding in and out of him. The werewolf doesn’t seem to
mind, as he grips the headboard, and snaps his hips into the werecoyote.
Stiles comes again, not as fast as last time, but feeling just as boneless.
Derek comes with a surprising roar that shakes something deep inside Stiles.
They lay like that, sweaty and in each other’s arms, before Derek eases out of
Stiles, still not used to being stretched so open (despite the lube and
rimming), and collapses beside him in a mound of big, fluffy pillows. Stiles is
thankful to see a condom on Derek’s softening dick.
His eyes blow wide though at just how full of cum it appears to be.
“What?”
“No offense, and I’m not attempting to be crude, but that’s a lot of fucking
jizz.”
“Did they stop teaching Sex Ed and were anatomy at Beacon Hills High? Male
werewolves have a higher sperm count, therefore produce larger quantities of
sperm when they ejaculate.”
“I know that. Trust me, as a carrier, I paid very strict attention in those
classes. I’m just saying… It’s more than I expected.”
“Why are you nervous about it… Wait. Were you planning on sucking me off at
some point?”
“I’m not now, asshole.”
“You don’t have to swallow. I’d love it if you did, but if it makes you
uncomfortable than you don’t have to, baby.”
Stiles hates how some guy he’s met only twice seems to be able to figure out
what goes on in his head about as much as Scott and Lydia do. And he’s known
them since first grade. He also hates that it’s the third time tonight Derek’s
called him “baby,” and how it starts this flutter in his chest he can’t ignore.
“I should shower.”
“Well, I’m starving. Fucking cute, little coyotes always makes me hungry. Do
you want something?”
Stiles climbs back onto the bed and takes a look at the room service menu with
Derek. “Chicken sandwich and potato chips sound good,” he says after a moment.
Derek calls and orders Stiles’ sandwich, a fifty dollar steak dinner for
himself, and a double-fudge chocolate cake to share.
They eat and watch the first two episodes in the first season of Derek’s
favorite show, Game of Thrones, when Stiles mentions he’s never seen it before.
His dad refuses to get HBO and the box set DVDs are too expensive for his small
budget. He asked for the books for Christmas, but it’s October, and his only
interest in the books was because he couldn’t watch the show. He tried to
pirate them once, but in doing so his laptop caught a virus and corrupted
everything, peeving his dad off when he has to buy him a new one.
They shower together, kissing under the spray of hot water. They jerk each
other off before pulling apart and properly showering. Neither of them can
afford to get caught smelling like the other.
Stiles leaves first, getting into his jeep and pulling out of the parking lot.
He doesn’t pull into the street until he sees Derek walk out the hotel a half-
hour later.
He text Derek when he reaches his driveway.
Derek text back saying he’s about a half-hour from home. Stiles finds it
strange, given how small both towns are, that Derek would be that far out. He
should be 10 minutes behind Stiles… He shrugs and heads inside.
His dad is asleep on the couch. Seinfeld reruns play on the TV. Stiles mutes it
and covers his dad with the throw blanket Melissa, Scott’s mom, knitted for
them last Christmas.
He waits for Derek to text him before he climbs into bed.
DEREK: Home
DEREK: Next Thursday? Same time, same place?
He doesn’t bother hesitating this time.
STILES: Yes.
DEREK: ;)
 
===============================================================================
It goes on like that for 4 more weeks before he decides to do something stupid,
like tell his best friend, Scott_McCall.
“What do you mean you’re having sex with some older guy?!”
Stiles shushes him immediately, looking around the burger joint to make sure no
one heard.
“How old,” Scott whispers.
Stiles shrugs. “Twenty-five, twenty-six, maybe.”
“You don’t know? It’s not like you to not know.”
“We don’t spend much time asking questions. If you catch my drift.” Stiles
waggles his eyebrows at his friend.
Scott sighs. “This is bad. So bad.”
“Okay, you see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re shitting all over
it.”
“Right, and you’ve never rained on my parade,” Scott says rolling his eyes.
“I’m just saying, you’re dad is the sheriff and what you two are doing is way
illegal, dude. Did you lie to him and tell him you were older?”
“First off, no I didn’t lie to him. He knows I’m only sixteen, so this is full-
on dangerous territory. Second, I can’t lie to him; he’s a werewolf.”
Scott groans, not having the words for how in over his head he feels Stiles is
right now.
“Relax. I’m being really careful. We both are, and I’m having a good time with
him.” Though Stiles would never tell the already arrogant werewolf that. It
would just inflate his ego even more, and make him come up with some new
nickname to tease Stiles with.
“Well, at least you like him, I guess.”
“He’s okay.”
“Along as it’s just fun, Stiles. Don’t get hurt. Werewolves can get a little
crazed when it comes to someone they’re with.”
“We’re not together, Scottie. I meet him at a hotel, we have unbelievable sex,
and then we go home. That’s it.”
“How did you even meet this guy?”
“At his job,” Stiles answers, stuffing a fat curly fry into his mouth.
“Is that all you’re going to say about it?”
“Yup.”
“I won’t tell.”
“You totally will. You’ll blab right to Allison, and she’ll tell Lydia, and I’m
not ready for that conversation at all.”
“I can keep some stuff from Allison.”
“Like what?”
“Like you having underage sex in a hotel room with some mysterious older guy.”
“I’ll tell you what, if you can keep that to yourself for two weeks, I’ll tell
you his name and how I met him. Which is a story you might not like.”
“I swear. I won’t tell Allison, but you have to do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Don’t get caught.”
“We won’t. It’ll be fine.” Stiles gives him a reassuring smile, and he’s
grateful for the approving nod he receives in return. He’s a good, supportive
friend, and in no way, shape, or form a complete jerk. Because Stiles knows
with Scott being a beta wolf, he could’ve easily called him out when he
deflected, saying Derek was just “okay.”
Derek’s not okay. He’s a little more than “okay.”
And Stiles is trying with all his might not to turn “okay” into “amazing.”
»»»
Stiles drops Scott home after school first. Lacrosse practice was cancelled on
account of it raining all during 5th and 6th period, making the field wet and
muddy. Track was also cancelled, despite the weather letting up completely
during 8th period.
He then shoots over to the police station to say hello to his father and drop
off the leftover bean_and_chicken_sausage_stew he made for dinner last night.
He catches him in the nick of time, seconds away from stuffing his face with a
double-bacon cheeseburger from the diner right across the street from the
hardware store. Stiles snatches the burger from his dad’s grasp, along with the
chili cheese fries and Oreo cookie ice cream shake.
He tells him he’s babysitting tonight for a couple of hours and expects his dad
to keep away from all the fatty, greasy, sugary, salty food for the night and
eat his stew.
Stiles glares harshly at Jordan_Parrish, his father’s main deputy, who he
tasked with helping him to regulate the sheriff’s diet, as he leaves.
He stops at the grocery store next, picking up more wheat bread, some peanut
butter, jelly, and chocolate almond milk.
He quickly finishes his calculus homework, breezes through his AP history
homework, writes two haikus for creative writing, puts off Harris’ chemistry
project for one more day— seeing as how it isn’t due for another week— and
doesn’t bother reading the first three chapters of A Lesson Before Dying for
his AP English class since it’s one of his all-time favorite books, so he’s
read it cover to cover numerous times already.
He goes downstairs and makes sure the living room is straighten up, and then
heads into the kitchen. He fixes about a dozen peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches, then uses cookie cutters to shape them into moons and stars, and
sets it aside, along with cut carrots and celery.
The doorbell rings around six and a very pregnant Laura_Hale is on the other
side with her two daughters, Soleil and Luna. His legs are immediately attacked
by the two young girls as they grab hold tight, screaming his name excitedly.
“Oh, God, Stiles, thank you so much for this! I know it was last minute, but my
mom has to head over to Fortuna on some pack business and I have to go with
her. Thomas is on some ‘boys only’ camping retreat with his old college buddies
and left me by myself with the girls. Cora’s on a date with some girl from
Arcata Prep she’s been mooning over for the last couple months, and it’s my
brother’s—”
“Say no more. Totally cool. It’s not a hardship. I love babysitting Thing 1 and
Thing 2. Plus, you know I’d do anything for you.”
She kisses his cheek. “You really are the best! How do I get you in my family?
Maybe I can replace Cora with you…”
“Cora is the scariest girl I know, and I know Lydia Martin. Taking her spot as
a precious Hale would cause a wrath of epic proportions.”
“You know I’d protect you, right?” She winks at him. Stiles likes Laura. Loves
her actually. And her girls. She’s nothing like Stiles had expected. She’s
beautiful and funny and fearless, with such a down-to-Earth personality it
makes him yearn for a big sister of his own. He’s proud she’s tapped with
becoming Beacon Hills’ next Alpha.
“Without a doubt. Did the girls eat, because I made some food for them just in
case?”
“Ugh! No. In all the chaos of the day I didn’t have time to cook, and you know
I don’t let my munchkins eat fast food. I can’t believe you did that, Stiles.
It’s so thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Told you: totally cool.”
“I owe you. So huge. It’ll only be for two hours. Two and a half, tops.”
Stiles shrugs. “No worries. Just text me when you’re on your way back home, and
be safe.”
“I will. Girls, give mommy a kiss.” Soleil and Luna each kiss their mother on
the cheek. She kisses them right back. Laura tries to hug Stiles as tight as
she can, but her 8 month pregnant belly stands in the way of her getting
nothing more but her forearms around his shoulders. “Thank you thank you thank
you. Two hours. Promise,” she says as she climbs into her car and pulls out of
the driveway.
“Alright. You know the drill: homework, food, and then ‘Stiles’ Mystery Box’.”
“Yes,” they exclaim at the mention of the “mystery box.”
“Shoes first, cuties.” He helps them out of their muddy, polka-dot_galoshes and
matching raincoats before sweeping them into his hold and closing the door as
they giggle happily.
»»»
Soleil, at 8 years old, is the eldest, and in 3rd grade, making her the perfect
age for Stiles to baby-sit, seeing as how his future plans are to be a 3rd
grade elementary school teacher. She’s quiet and a bit docile for a beta
werewolf. Laura once said Soleil reminds her of her other sister, Valerie,
who’s also shy and accommodating.
Luna is 6 years old and just starting first grade. She’s a bit rambunctious and
has to be told to sit down, or wait her turn sometimes, but when she is, she
listens immediately and apologizes. So, Stiles is always glad to see that
Laura, and her husband, Thomas, have taught both their daughters well in how to
be respectful of others.
He wasn’t being flippant when he told Laura it wasn’t a hardship babysitting
both girls. He loves doing it, and he came to find it easy. In part because
they were his only “clients” aside from Greenberg’s little brother, Kyle, who
Stiles took over babysitting for after Greenberg “accidentally” set his
parent’s living room couch on fire…with a Molotov cocktail.
He helps both girls with their homework, then gives them the sandwiches and
veggies he made them.
Luna stuffs the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth and asks, “Can we do
the mystery box now, Stiles?”
“Okay. So you know the options: it’s either a movie, or whatever’s in the
mystery box, and if you pick the box and don’t like what’s in it, you can’t go
back and change to a movie. You have to do the box.”
Stiles came up with the idea after the first two times he babysat Soleil and
Luna. That first time, they spent about 15 minutes arguing with each other over
what to watch, and ended with Stiles getting scratched and bit when they wolf-
ed out on one another and he tried to break it up before they destroyed the
furniture.
The second time they convinced him to allow them to watch a PG-13 movie. He
thought he’d go with something safe, like Jurassic Park, but Stiles had
forgotten how violent the film was, and was reminded when both girls were
screaming their heads off when the T-Rex attacked the two kids in the jeep, and
then ate a man while he hid in a bathroom stall.
He was sure Laura would have fired him, if not for the hilarity she saw in the
situation.
So he looked up different ways to entertain werekids online and found some
interesting activities, thus creating the mystery box.
“Movie, or box,” he asks, holding a white shoebox with black question marks
drawn all over it.
They shout for the box (like always), so Stiles shakes the box, shuffling the
slips of paper inside. He opens the lid and blindly takes out a slip of paper
and hands it to Soleil.
“’Make slime’,” she reads. Both girls cheer excitedly. Last time they had to
create a Rainbow_Xylophone, and the time before that it was “Build_a_Fort and
save the Knight from the evil Dragon.” Stiles was so impressed with the fort he
left it up for another week. He and Scott even slept in it over the weekend
until the sheriff told them to take it down, “it’s an eyesore in my living
room,” and they were “too old for forts.”
“All right. Guess we’re making slime, ladies,” he smiles. They each take his
hand as he leads them into the kitchen.
»»»
The girls are still happily playing in the kitchen with their slime when Stiles
takes a call from Scott who wants to complain about Allison’s mother, Victoria,
grounding her this weekend, for sneaking out to go see Scott last weekend.
Scott is halfway through his “woe is me” heartache at not seeing his
girlfriend, Allison, for only 2 days when the doorbell rings.
Stiles checks the time on the stove. Its 3 hours past the time Laura said she’d
come and pick the girls up. “Must be your mom, girls.”
“It’s not,” Luna says, matter-of-factly, and Stiles never gets tired of them
being able to do that, but if it’s not Laura, than who is—
“Scott, I have to call you back,” he says into the phone and hangs up quickly.
He steps onto the front_porch, closing the door slightly, but leaving it ajar a
peek. “What are you doing here, Derek,” he says, trying to keep his voice down
and not panic.
“Nice to see you, too, baby.”
“Do not call me that right now. That is strictly a hotel thing.”
“If you say so,” he grins with a little laugh.
Stiles hates him so much sometimes. “Seriously, like, why are you here?”
“Didn’t you get Laura’s text?”
“What text? And why do you know Laura would be texting me?”
“Because she’s my big sister, who asked me to pick up my nieces for her.”
WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK…?
Stiles grabs Derek by the sleeve of his leather jacket that he let Stiles wear
last Thursday while he fucked him, and hauls him upstairs. He nearly stumbles
when Soleil and Luna greet him with “hey, Uncle Derek” before returning their
attention to their colorful slime.
Stiles pushes Derek into his bedroom and closes the door.
“If you don’t want rumors about us to start then dragging me to your bedroom
might not be a good idea.”
Fuck.
Stiles shuts the windows and pulls down the blinds, turning them closed.
“You’re a Hale?!”
Derek shrugs. That infamous, “so-the-fuck-what” hunch that makes Stiles want to
break his nose…with a brick.
“You don’t think that was in any way pertinent information for me to have?”
He does it again. He shrugs.
“I swear to God, Derek, if you shrug at me one more time…”
“What does my last name, or my family, have to do with us?”
“It’s just common sense to know something like that! You know I’m the sheriff’s
son! I mean, I would have liked to know you were Laura’s brother before we
started…whatever the hell this thing between us is!”
“Why?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have let— Oh, my God, that’s why you didn’t tell me!
You knew I babysat your nieces, didn’t you?”
Derek steps close, right in Stiles’ personal space. “Sometimes they would come
home wrapped in this really good smell I couldn’t pin down for the life of
me...until you walked into the garage.”
“You. Fucking. Asshole.”
“In all fairness, you could have asked me my full name at anytime, but I guess
you were too busy being stuffed with my cock to bother.”
Stiles slaps him across his face. For the second time since they’ve met. And
for a second time, Derek just smirks like the bastard he is.
“This is over. Get out now.”
Derek chuckles wryly. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I’m serious, Derek.”
“I’m sure you think you are.” He pulls an envelope from his back pocket and
tosses it on Stiles’ bed. “Laura told me to pay you. She said there’s extra in
there for the food and it being so last minute.” Derek’s tone makes it sound
lewd, like Stiles is being paid for the last 4 ½ weeks with him. He turns to
leave— “Oh, and, uh, today’s my 26th birthday. I was out with friends; that’s
why I couldn’t watch Soleil and Luna tonight. You know, in case that’s
pertinent information.”
“Get out now, you piece of shit!”
“See you Thursday night.”
“Did you not understand what I said a moment ago?”
“Yeah. I did.”
And Stiles hates the snicker he hears as Derek walks out of the room.
 
===============================================================================
This is why he hated that snicker so much. Because it’s 6:45pm, on Thursday,
and he’s been sitting in his car at the Blue_Lake_Marriott for almost an hour,
trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with him.
What is wrong with him? Why would he ever want to have sex with someone as
conceited and controlling and sneaky as Derek Hale? Why would he ever be
attracted to that? It has to be more than his looks… It has to be something
broken, or wired wrong in Stiles for him to want someone like Derek so badly,
and for him to know it.
That was the worst part. Derek knew it. He knew what it was in Stiles that
would make him say “yes” that night in the garage, and keep him coming back for
more, every week like clockwork, at a hotel one town over, 10 miles from the
Indian Casino.
Derek knows somehow to dig deep and crawl right under Stiles’ everything,
leaving traces of himself that itched and Stiles couldn’t get rid of for the
life of him. Trying to not think about Derek is worse than completely allowing
himself to think about Derek.
What the fuck is my self-esteem? My pride?
He thought about it, staring at the entrance door, into the warm, inviting
lobby. He has confidence. He has pride. He doesn’t feel abused, or manipulated
by Derek. And he’d never let anyone hurt him like that. He does, however, feel
bested. He feels challenged in some way, one-upped, like he doesn’t have all of
the control, and he’s not used to that.
Even with the bullies and popular kids in school, who shove him into lockers,
play mean pranks on him, and call him names, he’s always comes out on top by
using his brain. By wielding a smart-ass comment, or witty comeback back at the
mouth-breather insulting him, like the crack of a whip. That’s how he gets
control back, and keeps it.
Scott is his best friend, but is somewhat of a potato intellectually when
compared to Stiles. Yet, he’s always had sex with a beautiful girl, being a
werewolf, and MVP of the lacrosse team to round all that out and appear
“better” than Stiles. But all of it is just on paper. Stiles is determined to
go to Stanford, and has two ivy league schools already poaching him in his
sophomore year. He drives an actual car, has two jobs, wins every meet he
competes in, and was/is fucking Derek Hale.
And his other best friend, Lydia Martin, may be so much more, but Stiles enjoys
keeping her on her toes, nipping at her heels for the number one spot for
everything, from the personal to the academic. And admittedly, he does it
without really trying as hard as she does.
Therefore, he’s well-aware with how to be a winner while appearing a loser.
Except with Derek. Derek always seems to be two steps ahead of him, and it’s
the thing that drives him mad. The thing that makes him angry just as much
aroused.
And Derek knows it. He knows he knows it.
DEREK: You coming to the room, or are you still wallowing in the parking lot?
Goddamn him.
Stiles wants to send a snarky text back to the werewolf, but thinks the better
of it. There’s no use. No point in arguing. Especially considering he’s already
passed the front desk, and is on the elevator.
Chapter End Notes
     The headspace I live in for this fic:
     Werewolves are not considered “better” than other werecreatures
     (werefoxes/kitsunes, werecoyotes, jackals, werejaguars, pumas,
     wereleopards); just recognized that they are stronger. Their need for
     pack and maintaining order and hierarchy within their own families
     makes them superior leaders, and grants them with powerful physical
     strength. Therefore, Alpha werewolves are typically charged with
     keeping peace within an area, or territory amongst supernatural
     creatures, with the aid of human law enforcement and cooperative
     hunting clans/families.
     60-80% of all werejaguars and wereleopards are female. Pumas do not
     live in packs. Werejaguars and wereleopards, however, do live in
     small packs, but separate from their male counterparts. Neither
     pumas, werejaguars, nor wereleopards are monogamous.
     Though werewolves and coyotes share some similar traits, there’s a
     lot about them that’s different. For one, coyotes can’t detect lies
     from heartbeats or a pulse. They can’t detect lies at all. They’re
     hearing isn’t that intense. Neither is their sense of smell. They
     can’t smell emotions through chemo signals. They do have a strong
     sense of smell, and when up close and personal with an individual, or
     “prey,” can pinpoint another’s scent, but they can’t pick up emotions
     through smell at all.
     Unlike wolves who have an A/B/O pack dynamic, all coyotes are betas
     with yellow eyes unless without a pack, and then they’re eyes are
     blue, like an Omega wolf. Omega wolves are wolves without a pack
     (‘lone wolf’), or wolves that have harmed, or killed, an “innocent,”
     typically a human being.
     In werewolf packs, any status of werewolf can produce offspring. Any
     and all coyotes have the potential to give birth as well. Male
     werewolves and coyotes have what’s called a “carrier gene,” which
     allows for them to grow a “temporary” womb when impregnated.
     Female wolves and coyotes have a “heat cycle” that occurs once a
     month, much like a human female’s menstrual cycle.
     Werewolves are affected by the moon, whereas coyotes are not. And
     coyotes, along with kitsunes, can fully shift into their animal,
     unlike werewolves, where only Alphas can do a full shift into an
     actual wolf.
     For the sake of this story, the following characters are:
     • Stiles and Malia (werecoyotes)
     • The Hales (born werewolves, with the exception of Derek’s sister,
     Valerie, and their deceased father who are/were human)
     • Scott, Boyd, Isaac, Erica, Jackson, and Liam (bitten werewolves)
     • Lydia (werejaguar)
     • Kira (kitsune/werefox)
     • Deaton (druid, or witch)
     • The sheriff, Melissa, Parrish, the Argents, and Danny (human)
***** 14th Thursday *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles jumps to conclusions and causes disastrous results.
Chapter Notes
     Long-ass chapter... LOL
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
DEREK: I can’t stop thinking about last night.
DEREK: I want to suck on your nipples until you come all over yourself again.
STILES: Jesus, Derek!
STILES: I’m in Econ right now!
STILES: You can’t text me stuff like that in the middle of class!
STILES: I can’t walk around school with a hard on!
DEREK: Why not? Every other boy has one. Trust me. I remember being sixteen.
DEREK: Let me pick you up from school.
STILES: Are you crazy?!
“Stilinski! Put the phone away now! Unless you’d like to come up here and
explain the redistribution of wealth while I get to play Candy Crush on my
phone,” his Economics/track coach, Finstock, barks at him.
Stiles, being the nerdy smart-ass he is, shrugs (a habit he’s picked up from
Derek) and approaches the front of the class. He takes the piece of chalk from
Finstock’s hand and starts his lecture. Finstock honest to God takes a seat
behind his desk and plays games on his iPhone while Stiles teaches.
Scott giggles, but takes notes. Most of the glass does. Except Jackson
Whittemore, “Prince of Beacon Hills High,” who scoffs, rolls his eyes, and goes
back to doodling an offensive drawing of a woman with gigantic tits being
fucked by a werewolf.
»»»
The bell rings and the class gather their things and fly out of the room.
“Stilinski! Thanks for taking over today. I kicked my sister’s recently
divorced ass in Scrabble.” Finstock slaps him hard on the back before
sauntering off toward the gymnasium.
“That man can not be real,” Stiles says.
“Unfortunately he is. Please don’t be like him when you become a teacher,”
Scott tells him.
“Are you serious, Scottie? I’m not insane; I want to educate 8 year olds, not
scar them for life.”
“Sorry. Who were you texting away,” Scott asks as he heads to wood shop and
Stiles to AP English.
“Oh, shit!” Stiles remembers and takes his cellphone out of his pocket as they
huddle in a corner on the second floor landing down the steps.
Derek text him twice.
DEREK: Why?
DEREK: Can I not see because it’s Friday?
Stiles can just hear the snark in his tone. He turns to Scott who’s distracted
stalking Allison’s Facebook page on his own phone.
STILES: No. It’s just that it might not be a good idea to pick up your 16 year
old paramour from school in your highly-noticeable, flashy muscle car!
DEREK: Paramour? LOL
Of course that’s the thing he focuses on in Stiles’ text, and not Stiles’
attempt to keep their relationship a secret.
STILES: What else am I supposed to be called? You’re “lover?”
STILES: Just texting that makes my eyeballs bleed.
DEREK: Call yourself what you want.
DEREK: Guess I’ll see you next week.
DEREK: But until then…
Stiles opens the attachment Derek sends. It’s his dick. Derek actually sent
Stiles a dick pic. Of his cock. Hard, red, and with cum dribbling from the head
and down Derek’s hand wrapped at the base.
“Oh, dude,” Scott groans, looking seconds away from vomiting.
Now he picks the time to be nosy. “Don’t look!”
“Obviously too late! That’s just…obscene. Now, I know why Allison was so mad at
me when I did it.”
“I told you: No girl ever wants a dick pic. Ever.”
Scott watches as Stiles saves the picture to his phone. “But you clearly do.”
The late bell rings. Stiles flips him off and Scott smirks as he heads to 8th
period.
Stiles hurries down the steps, turning in the opposite direction from Scott to
his own class.
He and Scott have plans tonight to actually hang out; eating pizza, playing
video games, and marathon-ing the 8th season of Doctor Who. They haven’t really
seen each other outside school in a good while. Especially since Stiles has
made Derek one of his “extracurricular activities” for the last 11 Thursdays in
a row.
He and Derek stopped meeting at the Marriot in Blue Lake the Thursday after
Stiles found out Derek was from the well-known Hale family. Just as Stiles was
leaving the hotel that day, he caught sight of Lydia’s mother on a date in the
hotel bar with a distinguished, slightly older gentleman.
She didn’t see him, but from then on, Stiles suggested they switch up their
meeting places, so it doesn’t get routine and the chances of them getting
caught lessen.
So, Derek started meeting Stiles at a Holiday_Inn_Express on the opposite end
of town, next to Fortuna.
Last Thursday, Derek spent an awful lot of time on the foreplay, particularly
on Stiles’ nipples, sucking and biting on them until he came all over himself.
Stiles had barely recovered from his first orgasm before Derek slid two fingers
in him, pressing on his prostate, and made him come again. He was immobile by
the time Derek pushed his cock inside and fucked him until he came a third time
and blacked out.
He could understand why Derek would have a hard time forgetting that night,
because he couldn’t stop thinking about it either.
 
===============================================================================
“What do you mean you have to cancel?!”
“Exactly what I said, Stiles: ‘I have to cancel tonight’. I’m sorry.”
“Why,” Stiles asks over the phone, trying his best not to sound disappointed,
or surprised that he is.
“I got a family thing. Listen, next Thursday. I promise. Okay?”
“I mean, yeah, I get it. A family thing, and all, but—”
“Thanks for being understanding. I’ll call you.”
“Derek—”
Stiles stares at the ‘call ended’ flashing on his phone. He flops back on his
bed, a little saddened.
He could call Scott, but chances are he’s with Allison and the last thing he
wants to do is third wheel it with them two. Not to mention, he was in the mood
to have sex, not watch Scott and Allison practically do it in his face.
He could see what’s up with Lydia, but she always drags him into some girly-
ness he hates being involved in, like shopping or mani-pedis. She’s clearly
ignored just how gay he is over the years.
His dad is working late, until midnight. He guesses he could swing by the
station and bother him for a while. But that always got really boring, really
quick, ending with his dad kicking him out when he caught him snooping through
police records. Which is how he found out Alan Deaton, the local vet, and a
druid, was once arrested for public indecency, along with drunk and disorderly.
At the same time. Something Stiles has always found hilarious.
He hates this. He wanted to see Derek. To have sex and watch Game of Thrones
and eat room service with Derek…
Stiles’ cellphone vibrates. He scrambles for it, hoping its Derek, changing his
mind about tonight.
It’s not.
It’s Garrett. He’s on the track team with him, asking if Stiles understood the
third question on their chemistry homework.
STILES: Yeah. It’s a trick question because Harris is a dick and a half.
The track team!
STILES: But why don’t you come over and we’ll go over it together?
GARRETT: 4 real, dude?
GARRETT: OK
GARRETT: Txt me ur address
Stiles sends him the address.
His teammates weren’t exactly the craziest, most fun-loving bunch, but neither
was he. They could use a little weekday fun, even if it was just pizza, sodas,
and chemistry homework.
He text the rest of the team and told them to come over, too. They all
responded immediately, and politely asked if there was anything they should
bring. Stiles said no, just themselves and whatever homework they wanted to get
through, hoping maybe they could all help each other with whatever they were
struggling with.
Stiles text his dad he was having a few friends over (being evasive that it was
his 12 person track team), and that they’d be gone and he’d have the place
cleaned up by the time his shift was over and he was home.
The sheriff tells him to not touch any alcohol in the house (he’ll know if he
does), and make sure everyone has permission from their parents to be there.
Stiles sees to the former but doesn’t bother with the latter. It’s the
sheriff’s house. No one’s going to question their kid hanging out there. Safe
as churches.
Stiles orders some pizzas and grabs the 24-pack of Dr. Pepper from the garage.
He fills up the sink with ice and cold water, then places the cans of soda in
it.
Garrettand Caitlin arrive just before the pizza does. Greenburg shows up next
with a bottle of gin he stole from his parents’ liquor cabinet (Stiles promptly
takes it and hides it, offering to give it back to him when the party is over),
then Bennett, Patrick, Ashley, Sean, Caitlin’s ex, Emily, Violet, Mason, and
Malia show up.
Mason and Malia are the only Freshman on the co-ed team. Mason, Greenburg, and
Violet also happen to be the only humans on the team as well.
They lounge around socializing comfortably with one another, mainly in the "rec
room." Every now and again they remember this is to be a sort of study group
and attempt some semblance of homework, but they’re all having such a good time
it becomes easily forgotten within minutes.
Stiles catches Garrett staring at Violet across the room and saunters up to
him. “Go talk to her.”
“Yeah, and say what? I’d sound like such a dork and she’d never speak to me
again.”
“Not true! Violet’s a sweetheart. She volunteers at an Omega center once a
week. She’s not judge-y and rude.”
“She’s just…beautiful, you know? She’s like that scary kind of beautiful. The
kind you know you don’t deserve to even have look at you.”
“No one’s the beautiful.” Except Derek, he hears in his head.
“She is. She wants to go to William_&_Mary when she graduates.”
“She’s certainly smart enough. So are you. Go talk to her about it. It’s her
dream college, so she’ll do all the talking, and you can just listen and ask
questions.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Stiles takes his soda from him. “Then go.” He gives him a little nudge.
“Okay.” Garrett takes a deep breath and walks over to Violet chatting with
Mason and Patrick. She smiles big when Garrett joins their conversation.
Stiles gives him a cheesy thumbs up.
“That was sweet.”
Stiles turns to Malia Tate standing beside him. She’s a werecoyote, but never
at the monthly werecoyote meetings at rec center downtown. Stiles knows she’s
in a different pack, but knows better than to ask her about it. Everyone knows
pack business stays with the pack, and is only discussed openly between
leaders. The leader for the werecoyotes in town is Garrett’s father. Stiles’
dad is human, and as Stiles’ legal guardian, permitted to meetings, and has
been since Stiles’ mother joined when they moved to town after they were
married. However, with John being sheriff, he has to keep a neutral stance
between werecreatures, and hasn’t been to a meeting since elected sheriff of
Beacon Hills some years ago.
“He just needed a little encouragement.”
“He really likes Violet. He writes poems about her in creative writing class.
They’re not that bad.”
“That’s cute.”
“You think they’re mates,” she asks Stiles.
“I don’t know. He feels strongly about her; smitten definitely, focused only on
her romantically, a little possessive—”
“Like when Aiden pinched her ass in gym and Garrett wolfed-out on him and got
suspended for two days?”
“It was so glorious watching Garrett claw at him like that. So sick of all
those thick-brained jocks bullying everyone and pushing them around. Aiden’s
one of the worst. Him and his brother.”
“I don’t know. Ethan’s in my art class and he’s nice to me. Plus, he and Danny
Mahealani are really cute together.”
“Danny is the nicest guy ever. I don’t how he dates Ethan and is best friends
with Jackson Whittemore.”
She giggles. “You have such strong opinions about everyone?”
“Most.”
“Some would call that judgmental.”
“Because it is.”
She smiles. “Well, as long as you can admit it.”
“I have no problem addressing my shortcomings as a person. It’s all about
whether I work on them.”
“Are you?”
“Not the judgmental one, no. I actually like that about myself. Helps me figure
people out; makes me a shrewd judge of character.”
“What about me then,” she asks, turning to face Stiles with a little, goofy
pose. He laughs. “Seriously, what do you think about me?”
“Malia Tate, you are…a very nice girl. You’re also strong, caring, and open-
minded.”
“…What about pretty? Am I pretty?”
“Of course!” Because she is. Objectively. Like all other girls he’s friends
with.
She blushes. “Thanks, Stiles.”
He nods. Happy he made her feel good about herself.
»»»
Everyone leaves around eleven, which gives him enough time to clean up any mess
lying around. Everyone was pretty respectful of his house, except Greenburg who
clogged the toilet in the most disgusting of ways and didn’t tell Stiles until
he was leaving.
Fucking Greenburg…
On the bright side, Garrett and Violet are going out this weekend, and it looks
like Caitlin and Emily may be rekindling their summer camp fling into something
a little more serious.
Overall, it seems his little, low-key party is a success. He hopes to do it
again soon, but not at the expense of Derek canceling on him again.
He snuck off to a corner to text the werewolf a couple times during the party,
when Malia went to the bathroom. She pretty much stuck by his side for the rest
of it after their talk, so the handful of times she wasn’t looking, or there,
he shot off a text to him, asking him if his family thing was doing okay.
He never text back, and Stiles went to bed telling himself it didn’t bother
him, because Derek will text him tomorrow and it’ll be fine.
 
===============================================================================
DEREK: I can’t tomorrow.
DEREK: Sorry.
STILES: What the fuck, Derek?!
DEREK: Family thing. Next Thursday. Promise.
“Ugh!” Stiles punches the steering wheel as Scott climbs in the car.
“You okay, dude?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Let’s go get your paycheck from Deaton.” Stiles starts the engine, and
can feel his best friend’s eyes on him as he pulls out of the driveway and
toward town.
Neither of them says a word as Stiles fumes, hitting the gas pretty hard, and
speeding into the center of town.
Stiles swoops into a space, right in front of Deaton’s clinic with a “hockey
stop,” causing Scott to screech out a somewhat girly scream when he does. He
pulls up the emergency brake, turns the engine off, and folds his arms across
his chest, biting his lip, continuing to just seethe with anger.
“Uh, dude, I’ll be right back,” Scott tells him.
Stiles just nods, staring out the windshield at…nothing.
“Um, okay,” Scott says, sliding out of the car and into the clinic.
Stiles closes his eyes. Okay. Calm down. It’s just two Thursdays. He said it
was a family thing, an emergency. I mean, he’s a Hale. They’re the biggest pack
in California, so when he says a “family thing” it’s got to be a big deal,
right? Especially to wolves. To them pack means family and vice versa. So calm
the fuck down. Breathe. And do not lose your shit.
Stiles opens his eyes— “You motherfucker…”
Just down a few shops is Derek, coming out of the ice_cream_parlor, with a
stunning, dark-haired woman. They’re laughing. He pulls her in close and kisses
her forehead. She takes her cellphone from her pocket and huddles close to him,
holding it out for a selfie with Derek. They smile bright and look happy.
Stiles would vomit if he weren’t so royally pissed off.
Scott jumps back into the car. “Alright, bro. Let’s go bowling!”
“I’ve been fucking Derek Hale.”
“…What?”
“The older guy I told you about, the one I meet at a hotel, its Derek Hale.”
“Are you kidding me, Stiles?”
“Nope. And I want you to do something I know we’re no allowed to do, but I need
you to anyway.”
“Um…okay?”
“I need to tell me who that woman is,” Stiles says, pointing at Derek and
mysterious woman still standing outside the ice cream parlor. “I know you can’t
talk about pack members or what goes on in meetings, but have you ever seen her
before?”
Scott takes a good look. “Well, that’s definitely Derek, but I… No. I don’t
know her. I’ve never seen her before.”
“So she’s not in pack?”
“Not that I know of… Why?”
“Because Derek cancelled on me last Thursday for ‘family business’ and tomorrow
for the same reason, and now this.”
That lying asshole! He has a girlfriend! A fucking girlfriend! “Family thing”
my pale speckled ass!!!
“Okay, Stiles, you’re like scary calm right now and it’s kind of freaking me
out.”
Stiles turns around to Scott with a wicked smile. “I’m not going bowling
tonight. Tell Allison and Matt I’m sorry. I need to speak with someone.”
“Stiles, look, I know you’re hurt right now, and Derek’s a total tool for lying
to you and blowing you off, but I know you. Please don’t go crazy and lose your
shit over it. There are other guys. Like Matt! He’s cool and into all that
photography and film stuff. You like him!”
“I’m going to drop you off at Bowl-A-Rama then leave. Do not tell Allison
anything I just said, and don’t let Derek know you know. About anything.”
Scott gulps, then nods. He keeps quiet as Stiles pulls out of the parking space
and heads away from the ice cream parlor, taking the long way to the bowling
alley.
He doesn’t say a word when Stiles drops him off at the entrance then speeds
down the street toward home, because Stiles Stilinski can be scary as hell when
he wants to be.
»»»
Stiles barges into Lydia’s room! He closes and locks the door. “I’ve been
having an affair with Derek Hale since the beginning of October, every Thursday
like clockwork we meet at a hotel. He cancelled on me last Thursday and
tomorrow night with some lame-ass, bullshit excuse. I go into town today and
see him all over some woman at the ice cream parlor. Scott said he’s never seen
her at meetings before and doesn’t think she’s pack. What do I do?”
“Wow, Stilinski. If I had time I’d sit here with you and plot something out,
but I have a jaguar meeting to get to in 15 minutes,” she says pulling on a
shawl.
“Bullet points.”
“Fine. Are there rules to this affair?”
“Meaning?”
“Are you exclusive?”
“That hasn’t been discussed but I’m going to say ‘no’.”
“Did he give you the impression that you were?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s enough to feel betrayed. Also, he’s been lying to you about where
he’s been, what he’s been doing, and obviously, who he’s been doing it with,
when he should be with you. Hence, the impression your affair is exclusive. He
technically has cheated on you. Do you have feelings for him?”
“…Yes,’ he says, finally admitting it out loud.
“Were you under the impression he had feelings for you?”
Stiles thought of all the times Derek called him “baby…”
“Yes.”
“Has he claimed you, or scent marked you?”
He and Derek always made sure to never leave hickeys, or bites or their scent
on one another to keep them from getting caught.
“No, but only because we didn’t want to be found out.”
“So you’re saying he would have claimed you and marked you as his, had he been
allowed?”
“Yes.”
“And you would have allowed him to?”
Stiles fights back the stinging behind his eyes that wants to erupt into tears.
“…Yes.” He would have. He would have let Derek Hale claim him and mark him as
his and his only, and been proud to have his bite on his neck.
Goddamn you, Derek…
“And the woman isn’t pack, so you know she’s not family. She’s an outsider with
a close relationship with him. Weres don’t develop close relationships with
anyone outside pack unless to build an alliance, or declare a mate.”
The idea of Derek taking a mate, someone that isn’t him… He feels sick.
“Do not buckle, Stiles. Keep that anger and feed it. Fuck him. He doesn’t
deserve your tears.”
She’s right. Derek doesn’t deserve anything Stiles gives him, ever again. Least
of all his heartache.
“And you’re sure this woman and Derek are romantically involved?”
“Looked that way from where I was sitting.”
“Well, then, I think it might be time for you to bend the rules, too.”
“How?”
“Revenge fuck.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “And just who with, Lydia? Jackson? I’m still faint over
Derek wanting to have sex with me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Malia Tate likes you. Keeps asking me questions
about you and makes heart eyes at you every chance she gets.”
“No way.”
“Trust me, she does. The girl’s got it bad, and wants some serious Stilinski
one-on-one time.”
“Lydia, I can’t use Malia. She’s nice.”
“In a dim bulb kind of way, yes. Look, just ask her out and see how it goes.
You might even like her.”
“I won’t, Lydia. Not like that. She’s nice, like a kid sister. I don’t want
to—”
“Let her ride your dick until it’s sore? Yeah, she doesn’t exactly inspire that
kind of sexual umpf. I think it’s the clothes…and the hair…and the lack of make
up…and she’s a little too much of ‘one of the boys’, you know?”
“Any other Malia Tate critiques you want to get out of the way?”
“Well, this is my advice. Take it or leave it, but I suggest you take it. I’m
hardly ever wrong.”
She hardly ever is. And neither is he. Though they’d never verbally admit it to
one another.
“How pretty was the woman?”
“Stupidly pretty. Laura Hale-pretty, but with a pixie-cut.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” And Stiles suddenly feels sick again.
Lydia wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Walk me and my mom out.”
He nods.
“Then go home. Think about it. Try and get some sleep, then decide in the
morning. Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Lyds.”
“It was fun while it lasted, right? With Derek?”
“It was great. I should have told him that.”
“It wasn’t you, Stiles. Just like it wasn’t me with Jordan. These things don’t
work out a lot of the time.”
She’s trying to sound blasé about it all, but he knows she still misses Deputy
Parrish like crazy. It’s why she hasn’t been with anyone since him, waiting for
him to come around again, or for her eighteenth birthday when she can be the
bold one. Whichever comes first.
“Right.”
She pats his shoulder and opens the door for them to head out.
 
===============================================================================
He does think about it. He thinks about it for three days. First thing in the
morning. When he showers. When he eats breakfast. On the drive to school. In
class. At lunch. During track. When he comes home. When he has dinner with his
dad. When he’s doing homework, or watching TV. Right before bed, and just
before his eyes close.
He thinks about it.
All the way until the moment he finds himself at Malia’s locker, asking her out
tonight.
He feels like scum at the bright, happy smile on her face when she says, “yes,”
and skips off to her class happily.
He throws up in the boys’ locker room before gym.
Derek text him while he changes into his running shorts.
DEREK: See you tonight ;)
STILES: I can’t.
DEREK: Why?
DEREK: Everything alright?
He should call him, scream and yell into the phone and tell him everything’s
not alright.
STILES: Fine. Just can’t tonight.
DEREK: Okay. I’ll call you later.
Stiles doesn’t text back.
Instead, he goes home. Jerks off in the shower, trying hard not to think about
Derek and his rough hands over his body.
He gets dressed; nothing stylish. Just a clean pair of jeans, a plain T-shirt
and his favorite red hoodie. The one Derek made him keep on while he fucked him
against the wall.
He tells his dad he’ll be home around eleven. He’s got a date.
“With who?”
“Malia Tate.”
“A girl?”
“She’s nice.”
“I would hope so if you like her. Be respectful, and considerate of her
boundaries. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have a good time.”
Stiles nods and heads out.
He meets her at the movie_theater. Malia insisted. Stiles gets the impression
she may not be allowed to date just yet, and this whole thing is under her
parents’ radar. Probably sold it to them as a “group outing,” or “hanging out
with the girls tonight.” Lydia used that one a few times to go see Jordan when
they were a thing.
They go see some sappy, Nicholas Sparks film that Stiles is surprisingly into
more than Malia. She wiggles close to him and puts her hand on his thigh,
sharing his popcorn with him, even though he bought her her own.
When the movie ends they go get pizza. They talk about school and all the
teachers they hate and classes they don’t. He tells her weird Finstock stories
she laughs at, and she tells him about the nude drawing she did in art class
that got her detention.
He finds out her father is a werewolf and her mother was a werecoyote, making
her a coywolf actually. Her mother died when she was a baby. She was shot with
a poison arrow by hunters in a territory dispute that went bad very quickly.
Stiles figures that’s why she doesn’t go to werecoyote meetings; she’s in a
werewolf pack instead.
Stiles tells her very little about his own mother. Just that she died when he
was 11 years old from a viral disease akin to hepatitis that only affects
werecoyotes.
They switch topics from dead mothers to track and next week’s competition with
Arcata Prep, then the sweet, budding romance between Garrett and Violet.
According to Malia, all Violet talks about is the werewolf, and just how smart
and adorable he is.
“Maybe they are mates.”
“You think mates meet this young,” she asks.
“Some do. Some meet even younger, like Greenberg’s parents. They met when they
were 10 years old. It’s not unheard of. My parents met right out of high school
and got married less than a year later. They had me…17 years later, I think.”
“Why’d they wait that long to have kids?”
“That was the deal. My grandpa refused to give his blessing until he made my
dad promise my mom would go to school and get a college degree before they had
kids. My mom went to school to be a lawyer, so that took 8 years, and then she
worked as a paralegal in family court for a while. She even helped the
Whittemores adopt Jackson. But she wanted to start a family of her own, and dad
was already working at the sheriff’s department, so they planned to have me. It
took a while. They thought they were going to have to adopt for a minute there,
but then— poof! I came out of nowhere and brightened up their lives.”
She laughs. It’s a nice laugh. And he feels bad that’s all he thinks of it.
She’s a good girl. A nice girl, like he told her. He wants to like her. He
really does, but he knows he could never see her as anything more than a
friend.
»»»
Which is why he shouldn’t be here right now. He shouldn’t have let her talk him
into it. There’s one reason and one reason only people come to Randolph
Whittemore_Park at night. And they’re sandwiched between two other cars already
going at it, rocking back and forth with foggy windows and muffled moans.
“Malia. Look—”
She attacks him, kissing him wildly as he falls back against the driver’s side
door! He keeps his mouth closed tight, trying to gently ease her off him.
She leans back. “Oh, my God, Stiles! I’ve had the biggest crush on you since
forever!”
“Forever? You just met me this school year! It’s January!”
“I know but it feels like forever because when I saw you on the track field I
instantly feel in love with you! I think we’re mates!”
Oh, holy shit. This is not good.
“Malia. I need to tell you something.”
“Is it your first time? It’s mine, too.” She takes off her top, exposing her
bra. “The underwear matches, too.”
She leans in to kiss him again—
“Okayfuckno!” He covers her back up with her shirt.
“Stiles don’t be scared. It’s okay. It’ll be new for the both of us.”
“Malia! We’re not mates! I’m not a virgin and I’m in love with someone else!”
He didn’t mean to blurt it all out like that. He didn’t know what else to do.
“…What?”
“…I’m so sorry. I… As lovely as you are, I don’t think you’re my mate, and I
kind of have feelings for someone else. Someone that hurt me, and I thought I
could be strong enough to get over, but I’m not. As much of an asshole he is, I
do care about him. That’s why it hurt so much when he lied to me.”
She falls back into her seat.
“I really just wanted to have a good time with you, and I did. I like hanging
out with you, but there can’t ever be more than a friendship between us.”
“Is he your mate? The guy that hurt you?”
“I doubt it, but it still doesn’t make me want him any less. I’m such a
dumbass.”
“It seems we’re both kind of stupid…” She puts her shirt back on. “Is it Scott
McCall? The guy you’re hung up on?”
“Scott?! No no no no no no no no no! No. Scott is my friend and that is all.
Thinking of him as anything more is disturbing.”
“Who’s the guy then?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that already. Can you just take me back to the movie theater now?”
“I can drive you home.”
“No, it’s alright. I don’t want to get in trouble with my dad. I’m not supposed
to be out…on dates…with guys…just yet.”
“Who’s going to take you back home?”
“Caitlin. She knew we had a date tonight and volunteered to drive me over. She
said she’d pick me up, too, so my dad doesn’t find out.”
“Malia, I really am—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry please. I can’t stand to hear it again. I don’t want to
have to claw your tongue out through your neck.”
It’s not a superficial threat. He knows she’ll do it.
He starts the jeep, and pulls out of the lot.
»»»
His phone won’t stop buzzing. He was almost asleep… He reaches over on the
nightstand and grabs it. He has five missed calls from Derek!
A message pops up:
DEREK: ANSWER YOUR PHONE GODDAMIT!
Jesus.
Before he can respond, another one.
DEREK: I’M NOT KIDDING!
STILES: What the hell is so damn urgent?!
DEREK: 82691 Perdition Road. Penthouse.
DEREK: NOW, STILES!
Fuck.
Against all reasonable logic, Stiles quietly slips out of bed and puts on his
hoodie and sneakers. He raises the window and climbs out, scaling down the side
of the house silently.
He can’t take his jeep. Too much noise, and the last time he snuck out he tried
to roll it out of the driveway to no avail. He was busted before he even
reached the asphalt.
The address Derek sent him was in the warehouse district. He could hoof it and
be there in 15, 20 minutes. He was after all on the track team and a
werecoyote...
So, he speeds down the quiet street toward downtown.
He barely breaks a sweat, reaching a tall industrial apartment building.
There’s a buzzer at the door. Derek said penthouse, so he buzzes for the top
floor. The door opens and Stiles walks in. He nods to the grey-haired security
guard at the desk as he passes to the elevators, taking it to the top floor.
There’s only one apartment on the floor, all the way at the other end. Stiles
walks toward it. He knocks once before the door swings open and Derek drags him
inside! He slams him up against the door! Yellow beta eyes and a mouth of fangs
loom back at him!
“What the hell, Derek?!”
“Shut up,” the wolf snarls at him.
Stiles swallows hard, choosing to remain quiet.
A clawed hand rest by his head on the door. “Did you fuck my cousin?”
What?!
“What?!”
“Malia Tate is my cousin. Did you fuck her tonight?”
Oh. Shit.
“She came home, smelling like she took a bath in you. Did. You. Fuck. Her?”
He should be smart. He should tell the truth. This is already so out of hand.
“That’s none of your business. That’s between me and Malia.”
Or he could do that. He could stir the pot even more.
Derek growls then snaps his teeth at his neck! His clawed hand wraps around
Stiles’ neck! “You are my business! Everything you do is my business! And if
you’re fucking my 15 year old cousin, I’d like to know.”
Stiles eyes fade yellow, too. His fangs poke through his gums. “I am not yours.
I don’t belong to you,” Stiles snarls back.
“Really,” Derek breathes in his face like a threat.
“Really, asshole.”
Within the blink of an eye, Stiles is on the couch! Derek hovering over him,
wolfed-out! “Mine! Understand?!”
Stiles drags his claws in a swift slash across Derek’s face! “I hate you!”
Derek grabs Stiles by the hair and kisses him; raw, hard, and owning! Stiles’
claws dig into his back, dragging down toward his ass and tearing bloody
slashes into his shirt!
Derek pulls his mouth from him, their lips bleeding from their fangs. He
wrenches Stiles’ hoodie off of him!
Stiles tears away the rest of Derek’s shirt! He tries reaching for Derek’s
belt, but the wolf is already making short work of his Batman_pajama_pants and
sneakers.
He shouldn’t want this. Derek lied to him. He’s sleeping with someone else, and
has the nerve to be pissed he went on a date with Malia. He cancelled on him,
twice, and the one time Stiles cancels on Derek he has a possessive fit. Like a
giant toddler, angry someone else has been playing with the toy he neglected.
He shouldn’t want this.
But he does.
He wants it badly.
He wants Derek kissing him so hard it bruises his lips. He wants Derek pulling
his clothes off and turning him over on his stomach. He wants Derek spreading
his cheeks, spitting on his hole and eating him out, tongue digging as far as
it can go while clawed fingers prick his ass, holding him in place.
He wants it because it means Derek’s here, with him, and not with her. Not with
anyone else. It means Derek wants him and nothing but him, in this moment,
right this second. Derek wants Stiles just as much as Stiles wants him. He’s
crazed with it; wolfed-out and almost feral with his need for the teenage boy.
Stiles is about to come all over the couch when Derek pulls his sweaty, wet
face from his ass and slides his cock right into him with one hard thrust. He
grabs a fist full of Stiles’ hair with one hand and his hip with the other.
“You hate me?”
Stiles has never been so turned on. “Y-Yes. I fucking hate you,” he says
pushing back on Derek’s dick, his claws digging into the upholstery. He doesn’t
care if Derek can hear the lie in his heartbeat. It feels good to say it.
Derek slams hard once, twice, three times into Stiles. Stiles cries out, and it
rings in Derek’s ears from off the walls.
“You hate me? You’re not mine?”
He pumps his hips, pushing deep and brutal into the werecoyote, hitting right
on that special spot that makes him scream.
“Oh, my God, Derek!”
“I can’t believe you fucked my cousin! Did you like it?! Did you come?!”
“Oh, shit… Derek!”
“You belong to me, Stiles! Only me!”
“Please!”
“Say it! SAY IT!”
“I belong to you! Only you!”
Derek turns his pace faster, making it even more vicious, tightening the strong
hand in Stiles’ hair and the one his hipbone. Stiles is floating between
rapture and torment. He doesn’t know if he wants to come or die. It feels like
both. It’s hedonism.
His knees are about to give. Derek is just snarling and growling over him.
Stiles feels it. That fluttering feeling moving up his spine, ready to burst
all through his body.
Derek lets go of his hair and puts both hands on Stiles’ waist. He stays still,
moving Stiles instead, spearing him on his cock.
Tears burn in Stiles’ eyes. “Derek! Oh… Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!”
“You’re mine,” the werewolf growls.
“I’m yours! I swear to God, Derek, I’m yours! I’M FUCKING YOURS!” It jumps from
his spine, and cracks all through his body, like it always does with Derek. He
comes in long white ropes everywhere! A splatter lands on his lips.
Derek pulls out of him, flips him over, and jerks his dick over his bare chest.
Stiles can barely register his own name, but he knows what Derek wants, because
his coyote wants it, just as bad as Derek’s wolf does. He tilts his head back,
baring his neck.
Derek ROARS, coming all over Stiles’ chest and neck!
Stiles smears his hand in the mess on body, and drags it down Derek’s hairy
chest. Derek does the same, rubbing his cum, his scent, into Stiles’ skin,
particularly on his neck.
The werewolf collapses finally. On Stiles. Heavy and limb.
He couldn’t care less. There’s no place he’d rather Derek be. No place he would
rather be; fucked within an inch of life, exhausted, marked, and in the arms of
the man he’s presently given himself to wholly.
Because in this instant he has Derek, and she doesn't.
 
===============================================================================
He sneaks out while Derek is asleep and climbs back through his window before
his dad’s alarm goes off.
Thank God he has his own bathroom, and doesn’t have to worry about crossing
paths with the sheriff in the hallway, having him smell werewolf on his skin.
He showers vigorously, getting every crevasse and corner with a fresh bar of
soap, making sure he doesn’t smell of Derek anywhere, then checks in the mirror
for bruises and hickeys. He has fingerprint bruises on his hips that get him
hard instantly, but other than that he’s free of other marks.
His dad leaves first, yelling goodbye from downstairs, as Stiles gets dressed
in his room.
There’s money on the counter for take-out. The sheriff is working another
double.
He eats oatmeal and a banana before heading off to school, picking Scott up
along the way.
Scott doesn’t say much, looking weary of Stiles. He knows his best friend wants
to talk about what happened, and has been happening, especially about his date
with Malia, but Stiles doesn’t really want to get into all that with him this
early.
»»»
Stiles is in third period, study hall, when Derek text him.
DEREK: We need to talk. Come by the loft again. After school.
STILES: Okay.
He has no idea what he expects to happen, or even what he wants to happen, but
Derek’s right. They do need to talk.
»»»
He makes it the whole day without having to discuss anything with Scott
surprisingly, and Lydia is far too focused on some technicality with her GPA
score for her to really give Stiles a second thought throughout the day.
He slips out of school, just a few minutes shy of the last bell of the day
ringing. He knows Allison will give Scott a ride home.
He drives back to the loft, parking two blocks down from the building so no one
can recognize his car at Derek’s place.
He buzzes for the penthouse and the door swings open, letting him in. There’s a
different security guard behind the desk, a heavy set woman with red_framed
eyeglasses and a friendly smile.
Derek opens the door before he can even raise his hand to knock, and lets him
inside. He then sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees, looking
brooding and perplexed all at once.
They stand in awkward silence for a moment. Last night was…intense. For the
both of them.
It still smells like them in here. Like anger and lust and need and rage.
“Is this your place,” Stiles asks.
“No. It’s my best friend Vernon’s apartment. He shares it with his girlfriend,
Erica. They own a small chain of home improvement stores together.”
“Where are they?”
“Visiting her family in Texas. They just got engaged.”
“Oh. That’s really sweet. When are they—”
“What the hell were you thinking?! Why would you sleep with someone else, let
alone my cousin?!”
“Like I said last night: it’s not your business who I go to bed with!” Derek is
on his feet, ready to pounce. “But for your information, I didn’t sleep with
Malia, and had no idea she was related to you!”
“You expect me to believe that?!”
“You’re the one that can detect lies! Am I telling the truth?!”
“Why did she smell like you then?”
“Because we’re friends and we hung out last night.”
“There’s a difference in how Scott’s scent lingers on you, and how Malia’s
scent was drape all over you! What’d you do with her?!”
“Nothing! Like I said!”
“Did you kiss her?!”
“Is this conversation only happening because of Malia, or would it be happening
because of anyone?!”
“Anyone, Stiles! But it’s especially happening because you slept with my
cousin!”
“I didn’t fucking sleep with her! I turned her down!”
He didn’t want Derek to know that. It took bravery for Malia to admit her
feelings for Stiles, and showed way more decency than she needed to when he
shot her down. He didn’t want to humiliate her even further, even if it is just
between him and Derek.
“She came on to you?”
“Hard to believe. I know.”
“Stop that. Now,” Derek snarls. He sits back down. “Why didn’t you just tell me
that?”
“Because you have got some nerve, Derek Hale,” Stiles says, voice breaking.
“You sit there and question me on who I can and can not have sex with when
you…”
The last thing he wants to do is cry in front of him. Not like this. Not after
last night. Not after catching him in a lie.
“What? Stiles, tell me.” Derek’s on his feet again, looking concerned.
“…Why didn’t you just tell me you were seeing someone instead of just canceling
on me and lying?”
“I’m not seeing anyone but you, Stiles.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Derek! I saw you with her!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“At the ice cream parlor…? I saw you and your damn girlfriend! You didn’t have
to lie to me. You could’ve just told me, and ended things. You didn’t have to
make me feel like shit.”
The dam is broken; he’s crying.
Derek snatches his cellphone off the coffee table separating them, thumbing
through it. He rounds the furniture and approaches Stiles. “Is this the woman
you saw me with?”
“I don’t want to look at pictures of your goddamn girlfriend, you asshole!”
“Stiles, look at it. Is this her?”
Stiles glances at the photo and sees the ethereal face and pixie cut that’s
been engrained into his memory for the last week. “I already know how beautiful
she is. I don’t need you to rub it in.”
He turns to walk away, but Derek grabs his arm. “Let go of me!”
“This is my sister, Valerie.”
“You are such a terrible liar.”
“Look at it again, Stiles. Notice a resemblance? Does she not look like a Hale
to you? Like Laura, Cora, or my mother? Like me? This is my sister, Valerie.
She’s the ‘family thing’ I said I had to take care of.”
Fuck, don’t let this be true…
“No. No. Scott… Scott said he’s never seen her before at pack meetings.”
“First, Scott’s getting his ass kicked for discussing pack members with someone
not in pack. Second, Valerie may be a Hale, but she’s not in the Hale Pack. Or
at least she wasn’t until now. She’s human, so when she got married, she had to
join her husband’s pack. He’s a werewolf from a pack out in Wyoming. Valerie’s
older than me and got married years ago. That’s why neither you, nor anyone
else your age, has seen her before, or remember seeing her; she moved away 10
years ago. I went out there to help her get her stuff from her house so she
could move back to Beacon Hills because that piece of shit husband of hers put
his fucking paws on her. She’s four months pregnant and he pushed her out of
his truck.”
“Oh, my God, Derek…”
“And it took two weeks to move her stuff because he showed up at the house and
I got into it with him. He called the cops, I got arrested, and had to wait for
my mom to come all the way to Green_River and talk to the Alpha there and
convince him me beating the shit out of his beta wasn’t the instigation of a
pack war.”
Stiles…is an idiot. A huge, jealous, vengeful, clueless idiot. “Oh, my God… Oh,
my God… Derek… I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Fuck me. I’m so sorry,” he says,
pulling at his hair.
“I haven’t been seeing anybody but you, Stiles. Wolves aren’t like that. We’re
not like werecats.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean for any of this to
happen and get so fucked like this.”
Derek sits on the coffee table, looking pensive. Stiles is admittedly scared
now.
“Stiles. I know that this thing between us didn’t exactly start out like a
normal relationship. It’s still not, and that’s my fault.”
Fuck.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, starting this with you. I mean, I wasn’t. I
just knew I wanted you, consequences be damned.”
Fuck, no. He can’t do it…
“That was wrong of me, and dumb. For so many reasons.”
Don’tdon’tdon’tdon’t…
“But the biggest being that you’re sixteen. You’re young and impressionable and
inexperienced and I took advantage of you. I expected you to somehow know what
being in a relationship meant, and you don’t, and you’ve told me that time and
time again but I didn’t listen. And I should start listening to you.”
Shit.
“You can’t handle this. You’re acting out passive-aggressively, and that’s in
response to me being too ambiguous with my feelings for you and what this
between us means to me. This isn’t working, and I think we should—”
“Don’t break up with me.”
It’s out of his mouth before he even realizes it.
“…We can’t do this, Stiles.”
“Yes, we can. If we’re honest with each other and don’t let our jealousies and
insecurities get in the way of making something real happen with us. We have
feelings for each other, Derek. Strong feelings that make us both act crazy and
idiotic, but can mean the world if we work on the problems we have.”
“Like communication,” the smug bastard says, like its Stiles that’s the only
one that doesn’t say what he’s feeling.
“It’s not just me. This whole thing could have been avoided with some rules and
guidelines about what’s to be expected. And if you only just told me what was
going on with your family to begin with—”
“It was a private family matter, and your trust in me should’ve been enough for
you to accept that as an answer.”
“That’s…true.” Stiles knows when he’s wrong. Everyone has to eat a little crow
every now and again, but… “But how do expect me to trust you when all of this
is built on you bribing me?”
Won.
“I’m not apologizing for that. Any of it. I was honest with you from the
beginning—whether or not that honesty was despicable is neither here, nor
there— I told you the truth about what I wanted, and gave you an out. You could
have said ‘no’ at any time. You not doing so, implies you trust me.”
Son of a bitch.
“Stop trying to win an imaginary fight and talk to me. Be honest. That’s what
you said we should do to make this work.”
He does want this to work. More than anything.
“I don’t want to stop seeing you over a misunderstanding, like this is a Jane
Austen novel or something,” Stiles tells him.
“Thinking my sister is my girlfriend is a misunderstanding. Using my cousin to
make me jealous, what do you call that?”
“Low. Horrible. Shameful. Gross. Bad advice from a friend. A thousand other
adjectives that could never cover how much of a douchebag I am for what I did
to Malia.”
“Does she know it was me you were trying to piss off?”
“No. Of course not.”
The werewolf is mulling it over, running his fingers through his thick, onyx
hair. Stiles waits patiently for him to say something. Anything...
“This is a committed, monogamous relationship, Stiles. We may not be able to go
out like other couples, and there are still some things in bed we can’t do, but
we’re together, just like anybody else. That means you are only with me, and
I’m only with you.”
Stiles has to take a deep breath to calm down his excitement, otherwise, he’d
hit the roof.
“The thing that changes is that I can’t just see you on Thursdays. Any free
moment we can spare, we try to do so with each other.”
“Guess this means I have to quit French Cub then. And the Debate Team.”
“Yes. You have to quit French Club and Debate Team.”
“Do I have to quit track?”
Derek smiles. “No. I’d actually like to come to one of your meets one day.”
“Really,” Stiles blushes.
Derek yanks him forward by the belt loop on his jeans. “Yeah.”
Stiles scratches at the back of Derek’s neck, knowing he likes when he does
that. “Anything else?”
“Aside from ‘Stop taking shitty advice from petty friends’? You need to get
Malia to forgive you, if she can. I don’t care how you make it up to her, but
make it up to her.”
“I will. I promise.” He leans down to kiss Derek. Derek settles him in his lap,
deepening the kiss. Stiles shifts, turning so he’s straddling Derek. His hand
slides up his shirt, touching taut, hard muscle.
“Shit. I forgot,” Derek says, breaking their kiss. “You also need to get on the
pill.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Ask your dad.”
“I can’t ask my dad that, Derek!”
“Why not? My sisters have been on the pill since their first heats.”
“He’s going to ask me questions. Embarrassing, nosy questions. It’s not the
same with guys. We don’t have the excuse of a heat to get birth control.”
“Then go to the free clinic or something, but I’m not making love to you again
until you’re on something.”
Stiles can't help but smile.
“What?”
“You’ve never said that before. ‘Making love’. I didn’t think you considered it
that. With us.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been clear about what we are. I just assumed a lot of it
was obvious to you.”
“Clearly not.”
“Fine, then. Let me make it perfectly clear: I’m in love with you, and I don’t
want anyone but you.”
Stiles turns his head, embarrassed that he’s crying. Derek forces him to look
at him. He wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. And Stiles is
baffled at how someone so pompous can be so loving and romantic when he wants
to be.
“I love you, too.”
“I know.”
Jesus Christ, if he purposely made that Star Wars reference, than I am in
deeper than I thought.
»»»
“Hey. I forgot to ask you today what happened on your date with Malia?”
“Worst advice ever, Lydia. Derek found out and flipped shit.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what was supposed to happen, Stiles.”
“Well, I didn’t like it, Derek didn’t like it, and Malia got hurt in the
process. Total failure.”
“Malia is just a casualty of war.”
“Do you hear yourself sometimes?”
“I say it serves Derek Hale right for treating you like that.”
“It was all a big misunderstanding. The woman I saw was his sister, Valerie.”
“Oh… You know, I forgot there were three Hale sisters. Everyone says the one
that lives far away looks like she could be Laura’s twin, too.”
“You’re horrible! You couldn’t remember that a week ago—?! Wait. Did you know
Malia was related to Derek?”
“Yes. Her dad is Peter Hale. He owns the garage Derek works at. That’s why the
set up couldn’t have been more perfect. Malia practically fell out of the sky
and into your lap.”
“Lydia—”
“So I take it you and the sexy mechanic are back on? Great! I want to hear all
about it tomorrow in study hall.”
“Lydia—”
“Goodnight.”
Call ended.
Evil. Lydia Martin is pure, uncut evil…that’s going to help him get birth
control without having to talk about it with his dad. But nevertheless, evil.
Chapter End Notes
     The headspace I live in for this fic:
     Only female weres have a "heat cycle." It occurs once a month and
     last 3 days at the most. During heats, females experience an overt
     and uncontrollable need/desire/want for sexual activity and stimuli.
     Their body temp rises, causing profusive sweating and secretion in
     both the vaginal and anal canals. Some females weres also experience
     delusions, hallucinations, and fantasies while in heat. Werecats
     (jaguars, pumas, leopards) are particularly violent and aggressive
     during their heats. Heats are the only instance in which a female
     weres can conceive a child. Curbing the intensity of a heat, and/or
     an unplanned pregnancy, it is suggested birth control be taken
     regularly. Birth control comes in 4 forms: a daily pill to be
     swallowed at a set time each day, a vaginal ring that emits estrogen
     into the body, and is to be worn for only 3 weeks at a time, a
     hormone-releasing patch to be worn on the body for a week at a time,
     and finally a hormone injection that is effective for 14 weeks at a
     time.
     Though some male weres can conceive, they do not have heats, but it
     is suggested they take birth control regularly. Unlike female weres,
     male weres can conceive a child at any point and time during
     unprotected sexual activity.
     In other news...
     I am very, VERY, anti-Malia...so I don't exactly know what happened
     here...
     The photo of Valerie is of THOR actress, Jaimie Alexander.
     Can anyone reference the address to Boyd's apartment...?
***** 83rd Thursday *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles and Derek have gotten really good at this.
Chapter Notes
     Next chapter gets all types of dramatic.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
Derek has to get his own place. There's been too many near-misses with he and
Stiles being caught, and hotel rooms get expensive.
They try the dingy motel on the outskirts of town, right near the underpass, a
few times, but when a giant rat crawls into the shower with them, Stiles
refused to go back.
Weres can live separately from their pack, but werewolves, especially werewolf
families, especially born werewolf families like the Hales, have a hard time
cutting the cord.
Laura Hale can justify still living at home with her husband and their
daughters because she’s poised with becoming the next Alpha within the next few
years, so she needs to be in the center of her prospective territory, and
learning all she can from the current Alpha, which is her mother, Talia Hale,
at Hale House. Cora Hale is still a minor, a Senior in high school now,
therefore, she has to live at home.
Valerie Hale, Derek’s other sister, moved out 10 years ago when she got married
to a werewolf that was from a pack in Wyoming. As the human in the
relationship, Valerie had to join her husband’s pack, and moved to Green River
with him. Yet, even there, Valerie and her soon-to-be ex-husband had their own
house, close to the pack house (aka the Alpha’s house). Valerie divorcing her
husband allows her to return back to her family, the Hale Pack. And with her
being pregnant, she needs to be close to her family.
Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle, was Talia’s second, her only sibling, and a single
father raising a teenage girl after the unfortunate death of his wife. Being
close to pack, to family, is needed for him as well.
Derek is the only Hale that doesn’t have a real reason to still be living at
home, other than to say he’s a werewolf and his family is his pack. It’s a
flimsy excuse and not supported all that well given his friends, Boyd, Isaac,
and Erica are also pack, around Derek’s age, and live on their own.
Hence, Derek is too far into adulthood not to have his own place, or a
legitimate defense as to why he didn’t have one. He has to cut the cord and get
his own space, much to his family’s chagrin. Neither Talia nor Laura care too
much for the notion of Derek moving out, but his insistence in doing so is
backed by both Peter and Valerie who understand Derek’s need for privacy.
Moving out isn’t unheard of. It's just unheard of with the Hales, who pride
themselves on being a close-knit family, which made them a close-knit pack.
Derek promises to find a place in town and come home for Friday pack nights,
Sunday dinners, and every full moon. Talia Hale still isn’t happy about it, but
knows Derek is a grown man that needs a certain amount of freedom that he isn’t
getting at Hale House, constantly surrounded by other people. So she gives her
blessing, and Derek moves out in June, a month after Valerie gives birth to his
nephew, Micah.
 
===============================================================================
“Derek… Fuck…”
“I want to suck bruises onto your skin where everybody can see. I want
everybody to know who you belong to. I want everybody to know you’re mine,
Stiles, and only mine.”
“I am, Derek. I’m only yours. Please…”
“Oh, God, Stiles. You sound so good right now. I bet you look amazing, lying on
your bed naked, sweating, with your skin that bright pink color it turns when
I’m giving it to you so good.”
“Oh, God…”
“I wish I was there right now, watching you squirm and shake. I’d kiss you hard
and drag my claws down your sides, real slow.”
“Derek! Fuck! Please!”
“Then I’d lick your nipples. Suck on them hard and bite down on them until
there were tears in your eyes because you want to come, you want to come so
badly, but you can’t. I won’t let you. Not yet.”
Stiles fist his sheets, trying to breathe, toes curling. It’s getting harder to
hold onto to the phone, but Derek talking to him like that, hearing his smug
voice tease him on the other end, keeps his clammy palms holding tight to it
against his ear. He really should have used his headset for when he plays World
of Warcraft.
“I’d lick down your stomach and leave bite marks there. Then I’d turn you over,
spread you wide and lap at that nice, little hole of yours. Oh, fuck, Stiles. I
love eating you out. You taste so good and smell so sweet there, like honey.
Every time I do it it takes so much in me not to come all over myself.”
Stiles thought about the first and the last time Derek rimmed him. The first
time he came so hard he passed out, and the last time, two weeks ago, Derek
stopped right before Stiles was going to come. He shucked down his pants to his
knees, slammed in Stiles, and didn’t stop until they both came in a hot, sticky
mess.
“You know what I want? I want you to rim me, like you did last time. Christ,
that felt so good. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks.”
Stiles saw a tie rack in Derek’s closet and asked about it that day.
Apparently, Derek used to have a 9 to 5 job as a researcher for the American
Natural History Museum in New York City. A job he really loved and got straight
out of UC_Berkley when he graduated. He met his ex-girlfriend, Kate, there who
worked as a curator.
Stiles took two ties off the rack, using them to bind Derek’s wrists tight
behind his back. He bent Derek over his kitchen table and rimmed him until he
came, sobbing Stiles’ name.
Derek rarely gave up control to Stiles. Stiles knew the wolf in him liked being
the dominant, aggressive one, but every now and again he’d relinquish of bit of
himself and let Stiles take the lead. He was scared at first, not knowing what
he's doing and if Derek will like it, but they have such such a natural flow,
such a comfortable pace, like their bodies already know what the other wants,
needs, that Stiles doesn’t feel nervous for long.
“You came everywhere,” Stiles remembers. “I couldn’t get the taste of you out
of my mouth for days.”
“Fuck, Stiles… I need you so bad right now. I need to deep throat your cock and
finger you.”
“Oh, my God, Derek…”
“I need you to fuck my mouth and pull my hair. I need to push my fingers in
you, hitting that special spot. The one that makes your whole body seize and
spasm and jerk because it feels amazing when I touch it. When I press my
fingers to it. When I push my big, fat cock on it. When I keep hitting it over
and over and over again.”
“Shit! Dammit! Derek, Please!”
“Do you need something, Stiles?”
“Yes! Yes! I need to come, you smirking asshole!”
“You want to come?”
“Yes!”
“Ask nicely.”
Stiles is nearly in tears. “Derek, please. Please. Can I please come? Please.”
“Since you asked nicely… You can come now.”
Stiles takes off the vibrating_cock_ring he has wrapped around his dick and
chucks it aside. He tugs hard on his dick, twice, and comes all over his hand
and stomach, literally sobbing.
“How you feeling, baby?”
“I hate you,” he says with tears running down his face.
“Oh, I don’t think you do. I think right now you love me very much.”
Stiles is still crying, because it’s true. He loves Derek and he just had the
best orgasm of his life.
“Remember when you asked me what ‘denial’ was? That’s denial.”
“I don’t think I could ever do that again.”
He hears Derek chuckle on the other end. “I bet I can talk you into it one more
time.”
“Do you know how crazy my coyote was going?! I couldn’t shift and it felt like
he was trying to claw out of my chest!”
“The animal is primal, and there’s nothing more primal than sex. That’s why we
partially shift during sex; we’re letting the beast out in our most primitive
state. And you just denied him to surface and take control. He didn’t like it.
That’s why it was so intense.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Thank you.”
Stiles rolls his eyes.
“I don’t even have to see your face to know you just rolled your eyes,” the
werewolf laughs. “Take a shower, clean up, then get some rest. I’ll call you
during your study hall.”
“Wait. Derek, did you get to…you know?”
“No. This phone call was only about you. I’ll take care of myself later.”
“Or you can stay on the phone with me and I can help take care of you.”
“Or I can not touch myself at all until the next time I see you, then bend you
over my sofa and fuck you until I come buckets into your slutty, pale ass.”
Stiles moans.
“You know, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. I won’t touch myself for a
week. I won’t see you for 7 whole days. Then when I do, I will fucking rip you
apart.”
“Holy shit.”
“Goodnight, little coyote.”
Called ended.
Two can play that game. Stiles has no idea if Derek was serious or not, but he
hopes he is, and he hopes the werewolf snaps when he sends him dirty pics and
sext messages throughout the week.
 
===============================================================================
Derek was serious. Very fucking serious it seems. And Stiles did not help
matters sending naked pictures of himself an dirty text messages about wanting
Derek to fuck him until he couldn’t walk.
Derek never responded, but Stiles knew he got the messages and was reeling from
them.
His suspicions are confirmed when Derek picks him up from practice. Stiles
swindles a ride home with Garrett and Violet (who had formed into one of those
obnoxiously cute couples, all pet names and light touches, though still 10
times better to be around than Scott and Allison), but then Derek text:
DEREK: I’m parked two blocks from the school by the Burger King.
Stiles quickly showers and gets dressed in the boys locker room, then hightails
it to the fast food joint. He spots Derek’s car parked far from other vehicles,
near the back door by the dumpster. Stiles climbs into the camaro and Derek
speeds out of the lot.
They’re not even a block away before Derek unzips his pants and pushes Stiles'
face into his lap. The werewolf is rock hard and leaking. Stiles sucks him off
the whole way to his apartment.
Derek pulls into his space in the parking garage and lets Stiles continue for
about a minute more then pulls Stiles’ hair, yanking him off his dick, and rams
his tongue down his throat, tasting himself in Stiles’ mouth.
“Out.”
Stiles scrambles out of the car and lets Derek drag him to the elevators. His
hands are everywhere as the doors close. By the time they reach Derek’s floor,
his finger is knuckle-deep in Stiles’ hole through the back of his pants.
The doors are threatening to close when Derek pulls Stiles out and down the
hall to his place. He unlocks the door and Stiles’ head spins with Derek
throwing him over the back of the couch before he can blink.
“What did I tell you I’d do?”
“Bend me over your sofa and fuck me until you come buckets into my slutty, pale
ass.”
“Should I?”
“If you can,” Stiles responds like the little shit he is.
Stiles' pants and boxers are gone in an instant. Derek could give a shit about
the rest. His bends to meet Stiles’ ass at eye level, spreads his cheeks, and
spits twice on his pucker.
He doesn’t waist time, grabbing Stiles by the hair and ramming into him
rapaciously.
Stiles tries to hold onto…something, anything, for balance, because Derek’s
wild, intense fucking is pushing not only him, but the couch forward across the
room.
The couch bumps against the coffee table, the area rug bunched between both
pieces of furniture when Derek finally grabs Stiles’ hip with his other hand,
holding him steady. He can feel the prickly tips of claws against his skin.
He’s going to have bruises in the morning.
He can’t wait to see them and jerk off at the sight of them later.
Derek’s shifted. He knows he is. He’s growling and snarling and spitting out
broken, angry, dirty talk: “…fucking send me pictures of your cock… your hard
dick so pretty with cum… didn’t touch myself for a week… make me so hard… stuff
you with my dick… fill that mouth with cum…going to make you cry… make you
scream…”
Stiles wants to lose it. He wants to give in and fall apart, let Derek take him
down piece by piece, inch by fucking inch, but even more than that, he wants to
destroy Derek.
Derek hasn’t talk to him in a week. Hasn’t text him, called him, or came to see
him— nothing. And during that whole week, he hasn’t touch himself, saving all
his pent-up, raging sexual energy for him, just waiting to fuck him until he
was destroyed. Stiles wants to turn the tables.
Stiles beta shifts and uses all his force to push Derek off (and out of) him.
He attacks, jumping Derek and bringing him to the floor! He lines the wolf’s
cock with his anus and slams down making Derek growl.
He keeps at it, rising up then coming down hard and fast each time.
Derek tries to hold his waist and take back control, but Stiles grabs hold of
his arms and pins them above his head in a abusive grip. Derek snarls and
Stiles snarls back, still keeping up his pace, sliding angrily along Derek’s
dick.
Derek’s heated groans turn to surrendering moans.
Stiles lets go of his wrists, and Derek keeps his arms up and away from Stiles’
body. It means everything to Stiles that Derek trusts him enough to have
complete control at such a vulnerable state.
Stiles swivels his hips, moving his ass in a circle, swirling on his
boyfriend’s cock. “That feel good? The wolf like that? I bet he does. I bet he
likes when the little coyote takes over. When he bounces on his dick. Oh, God,
Derek, I love riding you! So much! It feels so good! It feels so good being
filled with your big, fat dick!”
Derek’s muscles turn taut and flexing. He’s close…
Stiles speeds up, trying to pull Derek’s orgasm from him. “Come on, Derek. Come
on. I know you want to come. Come for your little coyote. Show me how hot you
are for me.”
Derek bolts up, wrapping a strong arm around Stiles, the other flat on the
floor for balance as he ejaculates, shooting rivulets of cum into Stiles with a
feral roar.
Stiles grabs his cock and strips it quickly. He comes all over Derek’s abs with
the werewolf still inside him.
Derek collapses to the floor completely. Stiles follows, his head on Derek’s
shoulder. They’re both out of breath, sweaty and smell like spunk. But their
weres are happy. They’re happy. And it’s all either of them give a shit about
at the moment.
“What time is your dad home?”
“He’s off today.”
“Shit.”
“I know.”
“You should shower then.”
“He’s human. He can’t smell you on me. Besides, I like smelling like you. Like
yours.”
“Other people can smell you though. And human or not, he’s a good detective and
you’re a nervous liar. One glare in your direction and you’ll spill the whole
beans to him.”
“I’ve been doing good so far!”
Derek laughs. “You have. So we shouldn’t fuck it up.” He smacks Stiles’ butt.
“Go shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the dry with a dryer sheet.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
Stiles is clammy and slick. Semen rolls down his thighs, his ass hurts, limbs
limp, and skin flushed rose-colored. Attempting to stand and make it to the
bathroom feels like the biggest chore. He tries to detach himself from Derek,
but they’re both still so sensitive (especially Derek who hasn’t had a release
in a week) that Derek comes a second time, all over Stiles’ ass and testicles
when the coyote slides off him completely. 
Stiles makes it onto wobbly legs.
“Jesus, you look sexy like that. Fucked out and corrupted,” Derek says using
his underwear to clean the mess from his stomach Stiles left there.
Stiles flips him off with a grin as he stumbles into the bathroom.
 
===============================================================================
STILES: I want you to fuck me on top of your car.
STILES: How have we never done that before?
DEREK: Wish granted.
DEREK: I don’t know, but we’ll fix it when I see you tonight ;)
“You and ‘Prince Hale’ enjoying each other’s company still?”
“Don’t read my text over my shoulder, Lydia.”
“Why not? You just would have shown me when I asked to see them later anyway.”
“I can’t believe you get a kick out of my dirty messages to my boyfriend.”
“And why not? You’re an attractive boy, and Derek Hale is God in a Henley
shirt. Of course I’d find your sexual exploits interesting," she says, flipping
casually through an issue of Vanity Fair.
“And what of your sexual exploits?”
She scoffs.
“How are you, Lydia Martin, not getting laid?”
“Because I’m sick of boys. First Jackson, then Aiden--”
“You slept with Aiden?”
“Thought I told you that…” She shrugs. “We had a thing for about two months. I
had to break it off because he got clingy and needy. He asked me to winter
formal.”
“Oh, no! How dare he,” he says mockingly.
“I thought you hated Aiden and Ethan.”
“I do, but you were getting laid, by a guy who clearly likes you, and you
turned him down. Was he bad in bed?”
“He was okay. He has a foot thing though.”
“Meaning…?”
“He liked sucking on my toes.”
“That’s as bad as Jackson’s dildo thing, which I think is really just his
overwhelming desire to get fucked by Danny.”
“Danny has better taste than Jackson. Whatever. He’s Kira’s problem now.”
“Nice, smart, awkward Kira Yukumira is dating ‘king of the douchebags’ Jackson
Whittemore. The world has gone mad.”
“Not really. I can see them together. Like really together. Family dinners and
long-distance phone sex while they’re at different colleges and all that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. She tames him in a way I certainly never could, and he brings out
something wild and naughty with her fox when they’re behind closed doors. You
can tell when they’re together and cooing all over one another in the hall
right before chemistry.”
“Gross. I don’t want to ever catch angelic nerd Kira being groped on by 80s
teen movie villain, Jackson.”
His joke earns a laugh from the redhead.
“It’s nice to see you laugh. Feels like you haven’t in a while.”
“Since Jordan? I know that’s what you wanted to say.”
“Is it not true? You know you still owe me details about what happened, right?”
She puts her magazine aside. “How about I give you the Cliff Notes version and
we never talk about him again? Or until he comes to his senses.”
“What happened, Lydia? You were crazy about him.”
“I was… I am. He’s human and doesn’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Werecats. We’re not overly affectionate and romantic...or monogamous. We’re
not gooey. We’re admittedly flighty and aloof. We want love on our own terms
and we’re high- maintenance. He wanted more.”
“He wanted gooey feelings and romance?”
“Yes.”
“And even though you’re in love with him, you refused to give him what he
needed to feel cared for and special in regards to your tawdry relationship.”
“Who younger than seventy uses words like ‘tawdry’?”
“You’re full of shit. You fell hard for him.”
“I’ve never denied that.”
“But you’re also scared as shit. Jordan is everything you’ve always wanted in a
guy.”
“I’m seventeen and a werejaguar. I have no clue as to what I want. It changes
from day-to-day on a whim.”
“You’re using both those things as excuses for the fact that you’re terrified
of being vulnerable and giving yourself completely to another person, and you
want to do that with no one but Jordan. He’s your mate and you know it.”
“Mates aren’t real,” she says with an impertinent tone.
“Yes, they are. We both know they are.”
“Not for werecats.”
“Okay, are werecats a little fickle and polyamorous— yes. Does that mean you
and the deputy are going to have to talk some things out, work some things out—
yes. Will it be hard— yes. Will Parrish be accepting of it all— who knows? But
pushing him away and writing it off as something that’s just ‘in your nature’
isn’t going to let you be with him. You’re not going to get answers to those
things by doing nothing. Stop kidding yourself. You’re not giving him time.
Jordan’s not going to come to you. You have to go to him.”
Her eyes are wet. Mascara-stained tears run down her porcelain face. “You give
better advice than I do,” she sniffles.
“Might have something to do with the fact that I’m not inherently evil.”
She playfully swats at his arm as she grabs a tissue from the box on her
nightstand.
“When it comes down to it, why give up good sex for fear of being seen as the
orchid you are? You don’t always have to be a Venus flytrap, you know?”
“Great sex.”
“What?”
“You said ‘good sex’. Sex with Jordan was great, not good. He had an oral
fixation that bordered on criminal.”
Stiles snorts. “Excuse me then.”
They laugh.
Stiles’ cellphone beeps.
DEREK: At the end of the block, toward Simpson St.
“I got to go.”
“Booty calls.”
“How long have you been waiting to use that one?”
She gives a disaffected shrug, but smiles.
“Are you okay?”
“You mean after that rude dress-down you just gave me? I’m fine, Stiles. Venus
flytrap remember? Go have hot sex on top of Derek’s obnoxious muscle car.”
He pecks her cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Thanks for the cover,” he says.
“You’re welcome.”
“Call Jordan and apologize.”
She rolls her eyes, but Stiles knows it’s the first thing she’ll do as soon as
he’s out the door.
 
===============================================================================
It’s not always sex between them. Sometimes they lounge around Derek’s place
eating pizza, or Chinese, or tacos, and binge-watch Scandal, which Stiles
initially took great pleasure in teasing Derek about when he discovered it was
the werewolf's “guilty-pleasure show.”
Derek likes to cook so he makes dinner for them sometimes. They’ll sit at the
table adjacent to the kitchen and eat by candlelight, like a real date.
For Stiles’ 17th birthday, Derek takes him to San Francisco for 3 days. Lydia
covers for him, when Stiles claims to be spending the weekend with her and her
mother, looking at colleges up north (UC Berkley, Stanford, University of
Oregon…). Lydia and her pushy mother are in fact looking at schools up north,
but Stiles obviously isn’t with them.
He has a nice dinner with his dad on the actual day, spends the following day
with Scott, playing video games and vegging-out in the "rec room," and has
Derek pick him up in front of Lydia’s house to drive them to San Francisco.
Stiles loves it. They get to act like a real couple in public, do all the
tourist-y things, and manage to have sex on the Golden Gate Bridge without
getting caught.
They time their trip back perfectly, keeping in contact with Lydia the whole
way. She alerts them when she and her mother are 30 minutes from home. They've
already in Beacon Hills, at Derek's apartment, so Derek drops Stiles off at his
house 10 minutes before Lydia and her mother pull into their own driveway.
Stiles is so impressed with their sneakiness, he calls it “The Ferris Bueller
Birthday.”
Stiles also gets to meet Derek's nephew. A few times Valerie left Derek to
baby-sit Micah while she worked late. Stiles comes over and they watch the baby
together. He leaves, however, a half-hour before Valerie gets back.
Then, when Stiles’ father has to spend a week in San Diego for something called
the California State Police Re-Education Seminar, Derek takes him to his
parents’ beach_house in Trinidad for a couple days. They eat nothing but
seafood and ice cream and have sex on the beach between stuffing themselves
with crab legs.
Stiles has a meet in Pepperwood the day of Derek’s 27th birthday though. The
whole team has to stay overnight in the miniscule town, so he doesn’t get to
see him on the actual day, but a couple days later they drive to Ferndale and
have dinner at a small, mom-and-pop steakhouse Derek loves. They fuck three
times that night: twice, in Stiles’ jeep after dinner, and once on the drive
back to Beacon Hills, pulled over on the side of the road.
So they do things, or try to, as much as they can. And they share with each
other as well. Late at night, when Stiles can stay over, they lie in bed and
talk. Sometimes until the sun comes up.
Derek tells Stiles about his ex-girlfriend, Kate, in New York. He mentions that
they dated for a while and even lived together, but Kate was controlling and
domineering. Derek tells him how her petty jealousies and erratic, aloof
behavior often caused horrible fights between the two of them. And despite
being younger than her, Derek knows the best thing to do would be to get out of
a relationship like that quickly, before things get even worse. Kate it seems
took their breakup hard and went crazy. She torched the apartment they shared
together, and got Derek fired from the museum when she told co-workers their
relationship ended because Derek hit her, claiming she no longer "felt safe"
share a work space with him. Kate had seniority and a glowing reputation within
the intellectuals of New York. Derek was a young kid from the west coast and a
family name that only meant something there. After that, Derek couldn’t get
work in any other museum and thus, came back home to Beacon Hills.
Peter offered him a job at his shop as an assistant manager and Derek took him
up on the offer. He doesn’t mind fixing cars, but really misses working in a
museum, and misses New York, even though Stiles and his family are here.
Stiles talks about his mom, and how much he misses her. He talks about what her
last hours were like for them all, and how hard he broke down at her passing.
He even talks about his dad’s drinking afterward, and just how guilty he felt
because of it all, like it was his fault.
Derek talks about his dad, too, sometimes. He has nothing but fond memories,
which makes it hard to think about him and how much he misses him everyday.
Every now and again though, there’s this angry tone in Derek’s voice about his
father, and how if he just accepted “the bite” from his mother, he could have
lived…maybe.
Stiles talks about how lonely he is as an only child sometimes. About how he
suddenly can’t decide between Stanford, Columbia, or Princeton, when all he’s
wanted to do since the 8th grade is go to Stanford. His mother went there.
He talks about how scared he is of growing up and losing contact with Lydia and
Scott, and how much he wants to be a father when the time comes.
Derek loves kids. He wants a lot of them. He grew up in a house full of noise
and can’t wait to fill his own place with screaming, rambunctious werechildren.
He loves living on his own, and is glad Stiles convinced him to get his own
apartment, but sometimes he misses his nosy, bickering sisters. He’s proud of
Laura and all she’s learning to take their mother’s place as Alpha, and he’s
proud of Valerie, too, for standing up to her abusive ex-husband and raising
her son on her own. He wishes he were closer to Cora, but she’s eighteen now,
on her way to UCLA in the fall, and always been a bit of a loner.
They talk about Malia, too, and how she eventually forgave Stiles when she took
an interest in some senior on the lacrosse team.
They talk a lot. About their hopes and dreams and fears. They talk about the
things that worry them, about one another, themselves, and everything else in
between. Sometimes they cry on each other’s shoulder, and sometimes they fight,
but they always wind up laughing in the end.
 
===============================================================================
Stiles is being nosy. He knows it. Doesn’t deny it, but he has to know. He
wants to know what exactly Derek is into. So, he opens the werewolf’s computer
while he’s in the shower and clicks through his history.
He finds exactly what he’s looking for and forms a plan…
 
===============================================================================
STILES: My dad is on that triple murder home invasion right now.
DEREK: I know. My mom is helping him out.
DEREK: Wolves might be involved.
STILES: Jesus…
DEREK: Yeah.
STILES: But that’s not why I’m texting. My dad’ll be working a lot of all-
nighters until this thing is solved and I want to take advantage.
DEREK: You’ve gotten so damn sneaky.
DEREK: It kind of turns me on…
STILES: Good, because I’ll be over in 15 minutes.
»»»
They’re making out, all heavy, panting breathes and tongue. Derek’s hands are
everywhere. He wants so badly for Derek to leave a mark on him…
“Bed.”
Derek nods. He picks Stiles up and fireman carries him to the bed, then drops
him down with a bounce, making him smile.
Stiles watches Derek undress. He could watch Derek undress all day.
“Are you not going to get undress?”
“Take my clothes off for me.”
Derek starts with his shoes and socks, nicely putting them aside. His hands
roam up Stiles’ legs, thighs, and hips. They find his fly and unbutton his
jeans, then pull down the zipper. Derek shucks down Stiles’ pants to his knees
when… He freezes while Stiles wears a Cheshire Cat-like grin.
“Stiles…”
“Is there a problem?”
Derek’s eyes turn yellow and flick upward to Stiles. His breathing is shallow,
like he’s trying hard to calm himself, but it’s becoming more and more
difficult.
“Aren’t you going to finish undressing me?”
Derek yanks off Stiles’ pants the rest of the way. “You…” He tugs Stiles’
hoodie off and the same stunted look plagues his face. And Stiles still wears
his grin. “Jesus.”
Stiles’ lithe, muted frame is hugged in a pair of pale pink panties and
matching bra. His slim build allows the set to fit nicely on his body, and
cause Derek to nearly have a heart attack.
“Lie down,” Derek says around a mouth full of fangs.
Stiles does as told, lying across the bed horizontally. He braces himself for
Derek to lose control on him, to go feral and tear at him like a last meal.
He’s tingling with excitement for claws slashing away delicate fabric and Derek
to turn him over and fuck him rapid and rough on all fours.
Instead, Derek’s hands smoothly caress his exposed skin, careful of the lace
around his body. He kisses every inch of him, starting from his toes and
working his way upward patiently.
Stiles wasn’t expecting this. He was expecting deep penetration,screaming, and
dirty talk. In its place, he gets soft kisses and tender hands. His skin
pebbles at every touch of Derek’s lips.
Derek kisses every one of his fingertips, looking deep into his eyes. Stiles’
blushes all over.
He wants to touch, too, but Derek slides back down, stopping at the hem on his
panties. He pulls the right side down a bit and kisses there; leaving tiny
little bites on his hipbone. Stiles shudders, and Derek does the same with the
other side of his hips.
It feels like a lifetime has past when Derek settles between Stiles’ thighs,
his face buried at his crotch, sniffing, smelling the coyote’s arousal where
it’s most potent. He hums his approval and Stiles feels like he could come
right now. So he bites down on his bottom lip, hard, drawing blood and focusing
on the pain of it. Derek’s head lifts up at the smell of blood. His thumb
swipes at the trickle down Stiles’ chin and brings it to his own mouth, sucking
the deep red paint off and tasting the very essence of him. Stiles’ dick
twitches at the sight.
Derek’s head returns to the junction between Stiles’ legs. Stiles feels hot
breath right at his balls, then a warm, wet tongue.
He's surprised at how loud and desperate he moans, but Derek has been taking
his time and that time has been so agonizing and so acute. He needs Derek’s
everything, all at once, touching him, kissing him, licking him, fucking him.
His runs his hands through raven hair as Derek laps at his testicles, turning
long soggy licks into hard sucking.
Derek’s hand runs up and down his belly, while the other drags two fingers
along the length of his cock, still trapped in his panties that are becoming
damper and damper with Derek’s mouth and Stiles' precum.
Stiles is whimpering like a wanton and he doesn’t care. He takes Derek’s hand
on his belly and brings his fingers into his mouth to suck.
Derek hums around his balls and the vibration makes Stiles’ toes curl. He’s
going to come.
“No.”
“Derek. Please.”
He pulls away from Stiles, stalling the coyote’s orgasm. Stiles feels like
hitting him. He’s driving him insane.
Derek reaches over him, into the nightstand, and grabs a bottle of lube out of
the drawer.
Stiles licks his lips, ready for Derek to let his wolf loose on him. He needs
to come, so badly.
Derek slicks his cock. He pulls Stiles’ panties to the side and presses two
fingers against his hole. “You’re already loose.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about this. It’s been on my mind all day,” he says
unashamed. He masturbated this morning in the shower, using the jelly_anal_plug
Lydia bought him for his birthday. He decided to be bold and wore it all day in
school. By 3rd period he had to excuse himself to the boy’s bathroom and jerked
off as silently as he could. He took the plug out just before he came over to
Derek’s place.
Derek leans down and kisses him chastely.
He politely pulls Stiles knees apart and settles between them. He pushes his
cock around the wet fabric of Stiles’ underwear and slips into him easily. They
both moan, and Derek glides all the way in.
Derek brings his body down low, chest-to-chest with Stiles, lips kissing his
jawline, hands wrapped around him; one at the nape of his neck.
Stiles just wants him to move, but Derek is more interested in kissing.
Passionate, velvety kisses that Stiles knows he’ll feel on his lips weeks from
now.
Derek’s lips move to his neck, right at his pulse point, as hands card through
walnut-colored hair. Stiles’ eyes roll to the back of his head, feeling Derek’s
mouth right where he wants it. He teases there, licking and nibbling. Stiles is
a puddle of faint moans and whimpers. He wants Derek to bite down and draw
blood. He wants to be claimed.
He opens his mouth to beg for it when Derek rolls his hips, dragging his cock
patiently along Stiles’ pulsing entrance. Stiles squeezes him tight at the
sensation, terrified the older man will leave him cold and alone.
Has it always felt like this? Has he always been like this? He can’t remember,
can’t decide; he’s feeling too much, and needing it all with the painfully
deliberate rock Derek’s set.
Just when he thinks it can’t get any better with Derek, something new happens
and he has to take it all back. He has to take back the first time. He has to
take back being rimmed until he blacked out. He has to take back cock rings and
orgasm denial, sex against the wall wearing his favorite hoodie, on top of a
car, on the beach, and on the floor after a week of teasing.
He has to take them all back for this. This one right here, with Derek
worshiping every inch of him, kissing him sweetly, holding him close, looking
at him like he’s made of heaven and Earth.
“I love you, Stiles.”
And whispering I love yous in his ear.
“I love you, too,” Stiles says through tears, and comes with a choked-off whine
falling from his lips. He clings hopelessly to Derek, and the wolf entwines
their fingers, following with his own orgasm in a nearly silent groan.
He kisses Stiles’ mouth, then buries his head in the crook of his neck.
Stiles remembers now. It’s never been like this. It’s never felt like this.
Because this is the first time they’ve ever made love.
Chapter End Notes
     So, my head canon for where Beacon Hills is located is right in place
     of Eureka, CA (despite the fact that TW looks like it's shot in Palo
     Alto, or the OC). So towns mentioned in fics are real towns in
     Humboldt County where Eureka is located. I don't have any real
     connection to Eureka (except that I live in California). I just like
     that it's the largest town that far north of California, close to
     woods, tress, forest, and right beside it is a town called Arcata, a
     college town. Makes for a better mental picture when writing TW
     fanfic.
     p.s.-- Trinidad is highlighted to specify the reference is for the
     town in NorCal, not the Caribbean island.
***** 96th Thursday *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles fucks up, and Derek pushes him away.
Chapter Notes
     It's been a pleasant journey, my dears, but it has now come to an end
     I'm sorry to say. I want to say THANK YOU all for reading my smut
     with a side of angst/feels and hope you've enjoyed this fic as much
     as I have writing it!!!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
===============================================================================
STILES: I think I’m pregnant! Come over now!!!
SCOTT: Stiles, are you kidding?
LYDIA: You better be joking, Stilinski…
STILES: NOT JOKING! GET OVER HERE NOW!!!
»»»
Stiles won’t stop pacing the length of his bedroom. Scott sits silently,
looking queasy and nervous, at Stiles’ desk.
Neither of them have said a word in the last 15 minutes.
Lydia comes barging into the room, slamming the door shut! “I will kill you,
Stiles! I swear to weregoddess I will.”
“Get in line, after my dad and Derek.”
“And my mom,” Scott adds.
“And Melissa,” Stiles concurs.
“Oh, no. I’m going first,” Lydia snaps. “What the hell happened, Stiles?!
You’re on the pill! Remember when myself, Allison, and Caitlin went to the free
clinic, and Allison and I refilled our prescriptions, and Caitlin—a noted
lesbian—pretended to need a prescription for the pill, but it was really for
you? And remember your good friend, Lydia, paying Caitlin 100 bucks to do it
and keep her trap shut about it? And remember how she’s been paying her off,
once a month, ever since, to keep getting it refilled and remain quiet for you?
What happened to that, Stiles,” she grits through her teeth.
“Yes, Lydia!”
“Then why are you pregnant?!”
“Because I stopped taking it!”
“Clearly.”
“It was making me fat and miserable. Derek kept complaining about my mood
swings and how unresponsive I was to him about sex and… It was fucking with my
hormones.”
“And what in the hell do you think birth control does? It works differently for
everybody. Some are completely normal, and others turn into psycho-queens.
Allison and I already explained all this to you when we gave you the pills.”
“Well, I was hoping I was the former and not the latter. Turns out I was the
latter, so I stopped taking them.”
“When?”
“...About two months ago.”
“Oh, my God, Stiles,” Scott slams his head down on the desk. Face-palming
doesn’t seem like enough of an expression for the werewolf.
“Great. And I assume you haven’t stopped fucking ‘Prince Hale’ since you’ve
quit taking your birth control, too. This whole thing reeks of stupid, and you
are far from moron, Stiles. That’s why I choose to associate with you, but now,
with all this idiocy I might have to look for a new best friend.”
She’s exaggerating and being sarcastic. She loves him too much as a friend to
ever abandon him.
“Look, it takes about a month for the hormones in the pill to stop working
effectively when you’re no longer on it, right? You said you stopped taking it
two months ago, right,” Scott asks.
Stiles nods. Two months back, after his 18th birthday, he stopped taking the
pill. Which means the chances of him getting pregnant increased about a month
afterward.
“Oh, my God…”
“What,” Scott asks.
“I know when Derek knocked me up. It… It was the night we made love.”
“Yes. Because that’s how babies are made, Stiles,” Lydia says.
“No. No, that night was…special.”
Derek has all but stopped viciously fucking Stiles unless for a quickie or they
feel like being naughty in public. Mostly, he’s taken to slow kisses and body
worshipping the coyote until they both climax now. It’s become Stiles’ first
(and sometimes only) option when he’s in bed with Derek.
“I bet it was since you’re preggers now,” Lydia chastises with a wicked smile.
“What the fuck am I going to do?” He feels sick. He fights back the urge to
vomit.
“Well, you have to tell Derek of course, then your dad.”
“Well…not…really,” Scott says carefully. “There’s other options. You have other
options.”
“I know,” Stiles says. “And trust me when I say they’re on the table. It’s
just… Derek’s a wolf, and a fucking Hale. What if I have to have it?”
“Uh, it’s your body and you can do whatever you want with it. That’s your
right, Stiles,” Lydia preaches.
“I know that, but... What if he can never forgive me if I get rid of it?”
“I’d say that’s the least bad option from the rest,” Lydia says, and Stiles
hates that she’s right, even though the thought of Derek hating him, never
seeing or speaking to him again, makes his chest ache in sharp pains.
Lydia flops down on the bed, shaking her leg with her arms crossed over her
breasts.
“Lydia—”
“I can’t believe you did this. You have a secret affair with a grown man-- a
very visible, well-known grown man-- for 2 years without anyone finding out,
and 2 months—2 months—before we’re supposed to go to Stanford you decide to
fuck it up and get pregnant. We’re supposed to go apartment hunting in San Jose
next month, Stiles!”
“I know, Lyds! I am more than aware of all the things I’ve fucked up right now!
And all because I couldn’t handle bitchy mood swings a couple times a month!
All because I’m a dumbass!”
Tears are streaming down his face.
Lydia takes pity on him and pulls him down onto the bed with her. He tucks into
her neck and sobs as she holds him. Scott appears beside him, rubbing his back.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do,” she says, squeezing his hand.
“I’m so scared.”
“We’re here for you, Stiles. Whatever you decide,” Scott promises. Lydia nods
in agreement.
“You two are the fucking best, you that?”
Lydia and Scott chuckle as Stiles wipes his snotty nose with his sleeve.
“Oh. Disgusting, Stiles,” Lydia says. She opens his nightstand drawer and hands
him a tissue. Stiles blows his nose and doesn’t even want to fathom a guess as
to how she’d know tissues would be there.
“Sorry. I haven’t really had a chance to breakdown yet. Only freak out.”
“You mean you didn’t have a panic attack when you saw the test,” Scott says
jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
“Test? I didn’t take a test yet.”
“WHAT?!” A pair of dark green eyes and a pair of big, brown ones (that are
usually full of puppy-love and hearts) stare back at him in ferocious
disbelief.
“You haven’t even taken a test yet,” Lydia snaps, eyes fading into their scary,
cat-like yellow at him.
“W-Well…no.”
Scott snatches Stiles up from the bed, fisting his shirt and growling in his
face, all fangs and beta eyes. “Stiles, get your ass down to the pharmacy and
buy a freaking pregnancy test.”
“What if someone sees me and tells me dad?” He glances at Lydia, trying for his
best pout.
“Oh, no. I did the pill thing for you and I am done with being your courier.
This is your mistake and you need to fix it. Go. Get. The. Test,” the redhead
says.
“I don’t know why you two are so angry.”
“Because we thought you were certain and freaked out with you, and now it all
could just be you overreacting, or a stomach virus or something. Go get a test
before I have Lydia eat you,” Scott says, shoving Stiles toward the door.
“Fine. Okay. Jeez,” the coyote says. “But I’m taking it with Derek, and then
I’ll let you guys know.”
“I don’t care who you take it with. Just go get one and take it. Now,” Scott
demands. “Or Lydia’s the one that gets to tell your dad,” he threatens.
Stiles runs out of the house.
»»»
Stiles swings the bathroom door open. “Not pregnant! I’m not pregnant! YES!” He
jumps up and down with glee, clutching the pregnancy test in his hand like it’s
a life preserver. And in a way, it is.
“Are-Are you sure? Those things aren’t always accurate,” Derek says.
“I know. Which is why I took three.” He rushes back into his bathroom to grab
two other tests. “All negative.”
Derek nods quietly. There’s a look about his face. Something…maudlin.
Stiles takes a seat beside him on the bed. “Um, hey, look. I’m really, really
sorry if I scared you, and I’m so sorry I stopped taking the pill and didn’t
tell you. That was…beyond stupid. Derek, I am truly sorry for all this, and
I’ll get right back on the pill, I swear. I already have a refill.”
Derek nods quietly again.
“I understand if you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I serious fucked
up and—”
“I’m not mad at you, Stiles. I’m…”
Stiles hangs on, waiting for him to finish his thought. Derek looks at him with
sad, pitying eyes.
“I got to go.”
“Wait. What? Derek—”
“I’ll call you.”
Instead of using the door, the werewolf slips from the window like a cat
burglar.
 
===============================================================================
Lydia wanders through the textiles section of IKEA, fluffing pillows and
running her fingers through area rugs like the posh princess she is.
Her mother finds them a nice apartment in San Jose, which means Lydia’s father
had to one-up her, and lease a really nice, two bedroom condo in his name for
the two of them to live in while going to Stanford. The deal being they pay for
all their own groceries and the utility bills with part-time jobs. Mrs. Martin
of course was non-too-happy about being upstaged by her philandering ex-
husband, so she gives Lydia her American Express card to go nuts with at IKEA.
Stiles rightfully assumes Lydia pitting parents against one another was her
master plan all along.
Stiles' 18th birthday was the 8th of April. He and Derek had a plan: they were
slowly going to make their relationship public. A couple weeks before Stiles’
birthday they made sure they were seen around town “accidentally” bumping into
one another and making small talk, especially in front of the town gossips,
Mrs. Rockwood, the local florist, and Jennifer Blake, a druid who taught
freshman English at Beacon Hills High.
Derek reveals to Stiles he and Jennifer dated for a bit after high school,
before she cheated on him with her best friend (now wife), Kali, a werewolf
from another pack outside town.
Stiles took great pleasure in flirting with Derek in front of her at the public
library.
The next phase of their plan was to seem curious about the other to outsiders.
Derek would “mention” Stiles to Laura and ask questions about him to her
occasionally. Stiles did the same, trying to appear coy when asking her about
her “interesting” brother.
Stiles also had to try subtly bringing up Derek to his father. By his third
mention of Derek and the Hale family, his family grew suspicious and asked
Stiles why he had “suddenly become so fascinated with Derek Hale.” Stiles
pretended to be evasive about it all, allowing his father to believe he was
actually getting the coyote to admit something when he sat his father down and
told him he liked Derek and the werewolf asked him out for his 18th birthday.
The sheriff said he knew the Hales well, and liked them. He knew Derek a bit
and from what he knew of him he seemed like "a really nice young man,” but
Stiles could tell his father was still uneasy with giving him permission to go
out on a date with a man 10 years older than him. Stiles assured the sheriff
that it was “just a date,” and “not a mating ceremony.” His dad hedged for a
couple days before finally giving the ‘okay’, after stopping by the garage and
talking to Derek, in order to know him a little bit better.
They did the whole first date routine. Derek had even brought Stiles flowers
(something he’s never been able to do before), which made the werecoyote blush
a rosy pink.
Derek took him to the only fine-dining_restaurant in town, conveniently owned
by his brother-in-law, Laura’s husband, Thomas, who serves as head chef, too.
Thomas is also the silent partner in a nice, sushi_restaurant in San Francisco
he took Stiles to last year for his birthday, aka “The Ferris Bueller
Birthday.”
Both Laura and Thomas stopped by their table to be nosy during dinner. Laura
making sure to give her brother her best watchful eye before leaving them in
peace.
Stiles wanted to go back to Derek’s place afterward, but knew since making
themselves public, they'd have to appear to be taking things slow, and slow is
not smelling like burning hot birthday sex on the first date. Slow, however, is
a sweet kiss on the front porch until the sheriff flicks on the light,
signaling for Stiles to come inside. Slow is going to prom as Lydia’s date, but
the two of them parting ways at a hotel after the dance, and meeting up with
their much older boyfriends in secret. Slow is Derek and the rest of the Hales
being invited to his graduation BBQ at his house and Derek engaging in a long,
private talk with his dad while he had to assure Laura and Talia that “Derek
has been nothing but a gentleman” with him.
So they had a plan. And it was working. Far better than Lydia and Parrish’s
shock-and-awe strategy of just publicly announcing they’re a couple by sucking
each other’s faces off when she threw her cap in the air after their graduation
ceremony.
Stiles glances down at his cellphone in his hand for the 47th time sine they
got there…two hours ago.
“You’re moping.”
“Might have something to do with the fact that my boyfriend hasn’t text or
called me in a week.”
“He’s processing. I told you. The whole pregnancy scare was heavy. He needs to
time to think. That’s all. You’re freaking out over nothing.”
“I don’t think so. He’s only answered one of my text all week and that’s
because I threatened to go down to the shop and make a scene if he didn’t
respond.”
“What did he say?”
“’I’m fine’.”
Stiles catches a slightly puzzling look on the werecat’s face.
“See? That’s fucked up and weird to you, too!”
“I didn’t say anything, Stiles. Calm down.”
“I can’t calm down, Lyds! My boyfriend is pissed at me and going to break up
with me!”
Lydia drops the curtains in her hand and approaches him. Her hands rub up and
down his arms. “Stiles. Look at me. You don’t know that, and you shouldn’t jump
to conclusions. You love Derek and he loves you. Whatever is bothering him,
you’ll find out eventually. Okay?”
Stiles takes a deep breath. He nods.
“Just relax. I don’t want you having a panic attack.”
“I won’t.”
Stiles had a panic attack once in front of Lydia, the night he sent off his
college application with her to Stanford; something she didn’t exactly
appreciate considering she was ill-equipped to handle his freak, clueless as to
how to help him. Stiles remembered the breathing exercises his therapist taught
him years ago, and gradually brought himself out of it before Lydia called 911.
“Good.” She takes his hands into her and gives them a little squeeze.
She really does care for him and is important to her. He had always assumed so,
but given Lydia’s steely nature at times, it can be hard to tell if you mean
something to her, or if you’re a convenience, useful, to her.
»»»
They’re walking back to Lydia’s car with three carts full of stuff when Derek
finally decides to text him.
DEREK: We need to talk.
 
===============================================================================
Derek gave him a key on their 1 year anniversary, but somehow, now, it feels
weird and ominous letting himself in. As though he’s opening the door to his
own death. So he knocks.
After a beat Derek opens the door. He silently steps aside letting Stiles in
with his eyes on the floor instead of Stiles’ face.
Stiles steps inside the apartment and immediately feels, knows, what’s going
on.
He’s being dumped.
Derek closes the door and they stand in awkward silence for a beat.
“Stiles—”
“You don’t have to give me some long, drawn-out speech. Just break up with me
and get it over with.”
Derek turns quiet with an exposed, guilty look on his face.
“Oh, my God. You’re not even going to deny it,” Stiles says with a wryly laugh,
but tears sting his amber-colored eyes and his hands shake.
“Stiles, I just… That whole pregnancy thing--”
“I’m sorry that I did that to you, Derek, okay? I’m an idiot and I should have
never stopped taking my birth control. I could have ruined both our lives by
not thinking and—”
“That’s just it! You think something would have been ruined!”
Stiles is…confused.
Derek takes Stiles’ hand and leads him to the couch. Stiles takes a seat. Derek
sits on the coffee table in front of him.
“I don’t know how to explain this in the best way, so I’ll just come out with
it. When you text me to come over to your place and told me you might be
pregnant…I was excited, Stiles…and I really hoped you were. But you came out
the bathroom, over the fucking moon that you weren’t, and I was…disappointed,
and hurt that it felt like having a kid with me was the last thing on the
planet you would want. And I’ve been thinking for the last few days about that,
and us and…”
“And,” Stiles repeats nervously.
“And I love you. So much. But we want two different things, baby.”
“No, we don’t. Derek, I want those things, too!”
“Eventually. But not now. Stiles, you’re going to Stanford in two months.
You’re moving there.”
“Just while I’m in school! Lydia didn’t want to live in the dorms, or by
herself, so she conned her dad into getting her a condo. I’m not leaving Beacon
Hills on any permanent basis. I‘m not leaving you, Derek.”
“Yes, you are,” the werewolf says. “Stiles, you are brilliant, and bigger than
this town, and you’re moving on to different, more exciting things and I’m not
going to get in the way of that. I’m not going to hold you back and force you
into something you don’t want, and are completely unready for.”
“What would you be forcing me in to?!”
“Mating. Real mating; with claiming bites and marking and a ceremony and
joining pack, making you a Hale. Kids, a house, and boring, shitty jobs.
Keeping you forever.”
“I want those things and with no one but you.”
Derek sighs, rubbing the creases in his forehead, believing the coyote isn’t
really listening. “…Fine. Okay. Then you can’t go to school. You have to
rescind your acceptance to Stanford and give back all your scholarship money.
We’ll get married on Saturday.”
Stiles is stunned, to say the least. He hesitates in his response—
“See? There,” Derek says pointing to the awestruck look of reluctantance on the
coyote’s face. “That look, that indecision; I know you love me, Stiles, but a
husband and kids is not your path. At least not right now. And it’s all my wolf
wants.”
Tears run down Stiles’ face, feeling betrayed by his subconscious. “What do you
want?”
“One and the same. I want you, completely, baby.”
“I want you, too. Let me say ‘yes’.”
Derek shakes his head. “If I let you it would destroy us eventually. We’d fall
apart. You’d grow to resent me for making you choose me over your future, and
I’d resent you back for blaming me. That’s just two people growing to hate each
other, and that’s not a marriage I’d want to be in. Especially not with you. I
love you too much to hurt you and hate you.”
“But you’re not even giving me a choice, Derek. You’re choosing for me.”
“I know. This wasn’t an easy decision to make. I don’t want to give you up.
It’s just the right thing that I do.”
“None of this feels right! You’re breaking up with me because you love me too
much?! Bullshit! You’re just scared!”
“I want you too much to be scared!”
“This is fucked up! I hate this! I hate you!”
“Stiles, please, clam down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Everyone always wants me to calm down! I don’t
want to calm down! I want to be pissed the fuck off because my boyfriend is
breaking up with me!”
Derek reaches for him. “Stiles--”
“No! I don’t accept this! Any of it!”
Derek watches the werecoyote storm out, slamming the door behind him!
 
===============================================================================
It’s been two weeks of crying jags and snotty sobbing that makes his voice sore
and chest hurt.
It’s been two weeks of wet tissues littering his floor like white landmines.
It’s been two weeks of not showering and brushing his teeth. He’s been wearing
the same Batman pjs and yellow T-shirt since he was dumped.
It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t left the room.
It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t said a word.
It’s been two weeks of feeling sad, then angry, then missing him.
It’s been two weeks of not sleeping and eat.
It’s been two weeks and five visits from Lydia trying to pull him out of it by
talking about everything but Derek.
It’s been two weeks and 14 visits from Scott doing nothing but talking about
“what an asshole” Derek is.
He’s not. He’s actually a good guy that loves him and wants the best for him,
but he’s still angry and bitter about the whole thing, so he keeps quiet and
let’s Scott list “all the douche-y things Derek does during pack meetings.”
It’s been two weeks of his dad leaving food trays by his bed and squeezing his
shoulder on the way out.
It’s been two weeks and one visit from Melissa who gives him a pep talk while
he stares blankly at the wall. He does, however, devour the chocolate_chip
oatmeal_cookies she bakes him after she leaves.
It’s been two weeks and still not a word from Derek.
 
===============================================================================
“Stiles, get up. You have to take a shower. You smell. You don’t have to go
anywhere or do anything, but for the love of God, and my nose, please wash
yourself,” the sheriff barks.
With squinty eyes shrouded by dark circles Stiles acknowledges his father
hovering over him.
He reluctantly climbs out of bed and shuffles toward his bathroom. He turns on
the shower and closes the curtain around the tub. He takes off his clothes and
gets a good whiff of his own body odor. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles to himself.
He climbs in the shower and just stands there, letting the room fill with steam
and the hot water cascade over him, turning his pale skin into red blotches.
He can’t help it. His mind wanders to Derek and he starts to cry.
Crying leads to sobbing. Wailing like some sort of 19th century maiden,
standing on her widow’s walk, looking out into the sea for her dead lover. And
why not? He feels just as lost.
The curtain swings open violently! His father. “Alright! That’s it!”
“Dad, what the hell,” he squeals through his tears, trying to cover himself
with his hands, everywhere.
“I am sick of this shit! I let you wallow far longer than I should have. Get
out of the shower!”
“I haven’t even cleaned myself yet!”
“I don’t care.” To punctuate his statement, he shuts off the water and tosses
Stiles his towel. “Out.”
Stiles wraps the big, fluffy towel around him and climbs from the tub.
“I understand heartache, Stiles.”
“I know you do,” Stiles says, silently referring to his mother.
“I know it’s painful to lose your first love. You feel like the world is coming
to an end and nothing will ever be whole again. But it’s not true. Life goes
on, and time will heal open wounds, and you’ll love again. And it’ll be the
best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Derek… Derek doesn’t feel like a first love. He feels like an only love.”
“What did I just say?”
“No, dad, listen. Derek was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He was
an egotistical, smarmy bastard sometimes, but I liked that. And I liked even
more when he was sweet, and caring and attentive. He made me feel good about
myself. I didn’t feel special with him; I was special…and that asshole ended
it.”
His father takes a seat on the edge of the tub. “You want to finally tell me
what happened?”
Stiles sits beside him, holding the towel around him tighter, like a security
blanket. “He wants to mate me, properly, but thinks doing that will be holding
me back from my future, from Stanford, and everything I want to do afterwards.”
“What do you want?”
“Both. I want to have a life, but I want it with him. I want the things he
wants, too, but he thinks if I stay, and be with him, mate with him, I’ll
regret it later and we’ll be miserable.”
“Will you?”
“…Yes.” He’s been trying to lie to himself about it since Derek broke up with
him. It’s easy to write the werewolf off as a coward in denial, than it is to
admit he did the right thing like he said.
“Then, as mush as it hurts you, what Derek did by breaking up with you was
somewhat necessary, don’t you think? Your broken heart might not feel that way
now, but eventually it’ll mend. Derek is thinking of you and being selfless.
Giving you up must have been really hard for him to do.”
“Then why’d it seem so easy for him?”
His dad wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. “I doubt that.
He seemed very much in love with you. I bet he misses you a lot.”
“Then he should fucking call me!”
“It probably hurts him too much to. Look, kiddo, nothing destroys a parent more
than seeing their kid in agony, but I think Derek breaking up with you, for the
reasons he did, was right for the you, and him. You’re too young for marriage.
You have your whole life ahead of you, and Derek’s at the point where settling
down with someone and starting a family is most important to him. He wants that
person to be you, but you’re not ready. You know you’re not ready. And you know
if you try to force yourself to be, it’s just going to end badly for you both.
If he didn’t love you, he’d claim you and make you stay with him, forfeiting
your dreams. I think that says something about the type of man he is.”
Stiles pulls back to look at his dad. “What type of man is that?”
“A good one. That’ll do anything for my son.”
“Shouldn’t you want me with a man like that?”
“I do. When the time comes. He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder and kisses his temple.
"Maybe it would help if you two said ‘goodbye’ to one another before you left
for school.”
“I don’t know if I could see him without crying my eyes out. Or slapping him.”
“Find out. He might need some closure, too." The sheriff gets to his feet.
"Will you try and eat something for me today. Other than Melissa’s cookies and
two bites of an apple?”
Stiles nods. He’ll try. Hard to keep food down with heartache is poisoning your
insides.
“You should finish your shower, too. Since some rude old man came in here and
made you get out.”
A corner of Stiles’ mouth manages to turn up into a half-smile. “He’s more
pushy than rude, but it works for him.”
The sheriff turns to exit the bathroom— “Oh, and brush your teeth, too. Your
breath smells like an old mattress…dumped in the middle of a landfill.”
“I take it back. That old guy is plenty rude.”
“I’d call him ‘helpful’.”
“Dad." His father stops in his tracks, turning toward his son. "I meant it. The
way I feel about him… It’s not a false love.”
The sheriff approaches. He pets Stiles’ damp hair and kisses his head. “I
know,” he whispers into wet, brown locks.
Stiles watches as his father leaves him in peace. He wants to tell him that he
and Derek have been a couple for two years now. That he makes him dinner, looks
adorable when he plays with his nieces and nephew, and loves the way he can
have a whole conversation with just his eyebrows. He wants to tell him about
his trip to San Francisco for his birthday, about how scared he was when he
thought he was pregnant, and how sexy and heroic he thought it was when Derek
told him about clobbering his brother-in-law for hurting his sister, Valerie.
He wants to tell his father everything, but he doesn’t doubt he already knows.
 
===============================================================================
Derek opens the door. “…Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry I didn't call.”
"It's fine."
"Are you busy?"
"No." Derek steps aside to let Stiles in, but Stiles keeps his feet planted on
the other side of the door.
“My dad said I should come see you.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“He said I need closure, and that it’d be good for you, too.”
Derek nods, but with a distant look on his face.
“But I don’t want to give you closure.” Stiles' eyes are hard and determined.
“What I’m going to do, is tell you that I meant what I said when I said: ‘I
don’t accept this’.”
“Stiles—”
“This is what we’re going to do: you’re going to give me a claiming bite and
scent mark me, then you’re going to drive up to San Jose with me, my dad and
Scott next week to help me unpack all my shit and not have a panic attack about
being on my own at only 18 years old. And you’ll call me and talk to me on the
drive back home. And I’m going to come home every weekend, and you’re going to
come visit me every weekend in between. And I’ll talk to you every day, and
when I’m really missing you, so bad it hurts, we can Skype, just so I can see
your face.”
“Stiles—”
“And we’ll get married before I graduate.”
Derek turns still, taken aback by the next phase in Stiles’ plan.
“I could go to Stanford and hate it. I could hate college in general, and say
‘fuck it, all’ and decide traveling around with you is better, or getting
married and having babies is better. I could get there and be horrible and have
to transfer schools. I could change majors to something else I find I like more
than teaching and graduate early. I could change my mind and want to be a cop
like my dad. A million and one things could happen, Derek.”
“Including you realizing I’m not what you want.”
“Except that. That’s the only constant. We’re mates, Derek. You know that. We
don’t need a ceremony and me joining your pack to know that. I have been
fucking miserable and pathetic since you broke up with me. I know you have
been, too.” Stiles cups the werewolf’s face, looking deep into green/gold eyes.
“I am meant for you.”
Stiles doesn't miss the wet pools forming in Derek's eyes. “…I love you, but I
don’t know if—”
“Say ‘yes’, or I’ll never come back.”
“What?”
“I just pitched you the perfect happy medium, the best of both worlds for us;
it could work. We can work like that, but if you turn me down, without even
trying, then I’m leaving next week and never coming back to Beacon Hills.”
Derek chuckles dryly. “You… You can’t do that, Stiles. Your dad and Scott are
here. You’ve never do that.”
“Scott’s already mated to Allison, and my parents were mates. They know what
it’s like. I think they’d understand me not wanting to come back to the place I
got my heart broken at. And they love me and care about me enough to visit me
wherever I am.”
The werewolf's eyebrows knit together, eyes raking over the boy in front of
him. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he says.
“And if you think I’d be alone you’re crazy. Lydia is too much for this small
town and has been looking for an escape for years. Jordan’s her mate and he may
live here, but he’d follow her to the ends of the Earth, and I got no problem
tagging along until they’re sick of me…or I find someone to pass the time
with.”
Derek’s eyes fade yellow and a low growl sounds in his throat at the idea of
Stiles sleeping with anyone else but him.
Stiles steps into his personal space, running the tip of his nose along Derek’s
neck. “You can’t be with anyone but me, can you? That’s how wolves work, don't
they?”
The questions are rhetorical.
He had time to think when his dad left him to shower. About mates, and closure,
and the difference between wolves and coyotes.
He thought about what his dad said, that Derek might miss him and what he did
was hard for him, too. He thought about Derek being honest in saying their
pregnancy scare brought out a lot of feelings about fatherhood and marriage.
Then he pestered Scott with questions about mating and werewolves.
Scott tells him how Allison’s scent drove him crazy and pulled him to her. He
tells Stiles that on full moons, or when he’s hurt or angry, he thinks about
her and it anchors him, makes him feel weighted down, and calms his wolf. He
tells Stiles how needy and whiny his wolf was with not being able to put a
claiming bite on Allison until their wedding night (Allison’s rules). Scott’s
wolf was also very jealous and hated when Allison gave her attentions to
someone else, especially another were, despite knowing he’s all she wants.
Ever.
Scott also recalls the time he and Allison broke up their junior year, and a
freshman in his Introduction to Art class asked him out. Scott was flattered,
and wanted to say ‘yes’, but his wolf was growling and snarling so much he had
to turn her down, along with the two girls and Mason who asked him out, too.
His wolf saw them as “trespassers,” on “territory” staked by Allison Argent. It
didn’t want anybody else, and neither did Scott. One and the same, like Derek
said.
Stiles remembers Scott being sick with not having her, and howling at night
because of her absence. He said “his wolf was in pain.”
Once a wolf finds their mate everyone else is just a shadow. Just black,
faceless silhouettes, with their mate being the only color they see.
Scott even tells him about his overwhelming need to breed Allison; to fill her
with babies, and keeping her fat and pregnant as often as he can. He confesses
to feeling like that ever since prom night and he proposed to her. Wolves have
a desperate need to continue their bloodline, fill their house with cubs and
noise and love. Their desire for family is just as wild as their need to
protect, hunt, and kill sometimes.
Scott’s not allowed to tell him that, but he did, and in doing so he helped
Stiles be bold enough to demand his relationship back, and threaten the wolf if
he needed to.
Stiles pulls his face from Derek’s neck and looks at him closely. “You need me,
like I need you, and it’ll kill you not to have me. If I left and never came
back—”
“I’d find you and drag you back here.”
Stiles bites his lip, trying to hold back the smile there, but his blushing
cheeks give away his flattery.
“I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me.”
“I learn from the best.” Bribery got them here. Why not use blackmail to make
sure they stay perfectly content? “Derek…say ‘yes’. Please. I don’t want this
to be the end of us.”
Derek’s quiet for too long and Stiles feels nauseous. He starts to back away,
wanting to make a run for it, not needing to hear the words when Derek rejects
him. Again.
“…You’re a real, big pain in the ass.” Derek snatches Stiles’ arm and yanks him
to his chest. “A year. We do the distance thing for a year, and if it works,
and you like Stanford--”
“We’ll get married.”
“Yes. But you’re not leaving town without a bite on your neck and reeking of
me.”
Stiles smiles. “Fine by me.”
“What isn’t?”
“Kids. Not until I graduate.”
Derek rolls his eyes and sighs with a pensive look on his face. “Fine, but if--
”
“So totally on the pill.”
Derek grimaces.
“Can you stop looking so constipated and just take me inside and fuck me so
hard it makes the first week at school even more unbearable without you there?”
Derek smirks. And Stiles has missed the smug bastard’s cocky grin so much. He’d
be lying if he said it wouldn't shatter him to pieces if he never saw it again.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Are you being a dick, or are you really quoting Star Wars?”
“Both.”
“Of cour—”
The wolf grabs Stiles’ face, kissing him breathless and dragging him over the
threshold.
It’ll be hard. For the both of them. But Stiles is confident enough in them to
know they can work. They're more than an illicit affair. It’s grown beyond
that.
It’s a relationship. They’re a couple. They’re in love. They’re mates.
It matters not how they got here. Just that they did.
Chapter End Notes
     Does everyone know the numbered Thursday for each chapter refers to
     the last section of every chapter? Like the 96th Thursday they spend
     together is them getting back together at the end...? Sorry if that
     wasn't clear.
     Photo of 'Thomas', Laura's husband, is of actor Teddy Sears, and
     photo of first restaurant is of a place called Juvia in Miami, FL.
     Second restaurant photo is of a sushi place called Big Fish in
     Barcelona.
     Okay, so how do YOU bookmark? Some I know bookmark fics they want to
     read later, but isn't the 'Mark For Later' tab in 'History' for
     saving fics you HAVE NOT read yet for later...? And some, like
     myself, bookmark fics they have already read and liked so much they
     "save" it in their bookmarks. I don't know. Am I AO3-ing wrong, or is
     there no right/wrong way?
     Teen_Wolf_Confession_#2.
     p.s.-- I apologize my lovelies, but I am NOT taking prompts until
     further notice. I'm going to spend the rest of the month working on
     my fic FUTURE DREAMS, in addition to writing for my series You_Are
     Now_Leaving_Beacon_Hills, and outlining my next long fic, which
     hopefully will have the first chapter up the first week of September.
End Notes
     I really liked writing this story. I might have to expand on it with
     some angst/feels, misunderstandings, and oblivious boys who can't
     talk about their feelings.
     And I like the idea of there being an all-supernatural porn channel,
     like The Playboy Channel, called 'Werecreatures After Dark'... I
     might have to do something with that...
     UPDATE: Tags have been adjusted. This now a chapter-ed fic :)
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