Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/644555.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sterek_-_Fandom, Teenwolf_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall_&_Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall
  Additional Tags:
      Porn_With_Plot, Alternate_Universe_-_Porn, Oral_Sex, Explicit_Sexual
      Content, Anal_Sex, Drunk_Sex, Underage_Sex, Sex
  Series:
      Part 1 of Good_Morning_sourwolf
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-18 Words: 5291
****** lil red ridinghood ******
by RomanDiget
Summary
     No worries, If he touches you again. Allyson will kill him.
Notes
     This is my very first TeenWolf fan-fic and my very first fan-fic of
     any sort. I've been discovering little cannon errors since I
     originally posted. Thankfully people don't seem to breath fire over
     that stuff :D Anyway hope you like.
Lil-red Riding Hood
Cali was supposed to be about sunshine and beaches but Christmas in Beacon Hill
was bidding fair to be more like Alaska. The windows rattled under wind and
half frozen rain. Stiles didn’t need to look to know their porch was decked
with a tracery of ice no tinsel or glass decoration could mimic.
His only source of light was the emergency candles. It was all quite romantic.
Looking at the non-existent bars on his cell he restrained the urge to kick
something hard. No way, Scott’s mother was going to let him come over in this
weather.
Mac and cheese sat congealing in its bowl. The fruit-cake was doing a fair job
of soaking up the rum he had drizzled over it in case Scott turned down Dad’s
good rye. Yep it was Christmas Eve and he was sitting alone in the old farm
house again. Best of all, since the storm had taken out both power-lines and
the cell-phone towers he couldn’t even watch porn.
“Oh what a good boy am I” He muttered savagely.
The whole house groaned under an extra strong blast, candle flames dancing.
There wasn’t much point in keeping them all going now. Next to the cake was a
biscuit tin with a couple buds of Scott’s favourite weed. Stiles dug into a
pocket for his pipe. They would have shared anyway and he was going to need
chemical help to sleep through this.
He soothed his raw throat with a swallow of rye before packing the second bowl.
Nearly dropping the candle he was using to light it, when the back door rattled
extra hard. Hot wax spilled over his fingers and he did drop it.
“Fuck me!”
It snuffed on its own fortunately, but the door rattled again. This time there
was no wind to blame. What the fuck. It wasn’t enough that Lydia was spending
Christmas with that puke-stick and Scott was locked up with his mommy. Now the
universe conspired to rob him of the simple joys of getting stoned.
Marching determinedly to the door he practically screamed. “I don’t know who
you are but this better be good!”
The door almost tore itself out of his hands under the next blast of wind.
Which pretty much escaped his notice, as 180 pounds of wet, shivering, green
eyed attitude stumbled into his arms.
Derek was genuinely reeling, Stiles staggered under his weight. Pipe, candle,
and self-pity evaporated. He wasn’t nearly as helpless against physical force
as he pretended. Letting Derek’s momentum pivot him around until the werewolf
lost his footing and sagged into his arms. In a couple of moments he was sure
there were no arrows or bullet holes that needed tending and he half dragged
Derek to the couch.
Wind pouring through the open door had snuffed every candle. Wrestling the door
shut again won a grunt of disgust as he sagged against the frame. It was black
as pitch outside. Stiles tried to remember where the closest candle was. He had
a lighter in his pocket, assuming the flint wasn’t as soaked as his jeans now
were.
The faint green glow of Derek’s eyes showed up in the gloom tracking his
movements. That was enough to remind him, where the werewolf went, trouble was
close behind. “Dude! What are you doing here?”
“You said I could come. You said I should trust you.”
A sarcastic comment died on Stiles tongue. Derek hated him. They had been
thrown together often enough trying to protect Scott but that did not mean the
werewolf hated him less. Derek resented his friendship with the younger
werewolf, disliked his cocky attitude and was generally annoyed that the local
sheriff’s kid knew werewolves were not a myth.
Stiles would have liked to blame Derek for turning his best friend into a
werewolf. If he hadn’t been very enthusiastic about helping Scott break the
curse. Still, he made an effort, one that got him tortured, shot, run-over, and
electrocuted. That was worth something.
“Ah… yeah I did. Just… no one is going to kick in my door on Christmas Eve
right?”
Almost he could hear Derek swallow. In the dark it was next to impossible to
judge anyone’s expression, but he had always been very good at following
Derek’s particular form of bi-polar disorder. Without any reasonable
explanation he was almost certain the older boy was both nervous and
embarrassed.
“No hunters are following me.” Stiles felt his mouth twist impatiently. The
statement was not all that reassuring. Derek had more enemies than werewolf
hunters.
Instead of calling him on it, Stiles snatched a candle off the shelf and
fumbled around for his lighter. He had lived in this house his whole life. The
layout of rooms and furniture was more familiar than the skin mags he
shoplifted when he was twelve.
When Derek got off the couch and crossed the room without barking a shin, it
was creepy. Not wholly unexpected, but damn-it couldn’t this ass-hat at least
pretend to have a mortal weakness.
Almost on cue, Derek yelped and stumbled. The stone fireplace was directly in
line with his head and Stiles jumped forward to catch him. The werewolf’s
weight drove him back a pace, shoulder blades connecting painfully with the
mantel, head rocking backward to crash into the stone chimney.
Fucking typical, he tried to protect Derek and was going to crack his own skull
instead, except he didn’t. Wolfy reflexes caught him. A massive hand cradled
the back of his head gently. The other snaked around his waist, pulling him
against the werewolf’s chest and belly.
“Damn… he was right.”
Stiles had no idea who was right or what that was supposed to mean but Derek
was rock steady on his feet. The hands holding him captive were steady too.
Derek was pressed against his full length. Almost furnace hot, the firm
straining muscles, and most importantly the scent of Derek’s skin seeping into
his brain, was about to reveal his most desperate secret.
“Quit squirming Stiles.”
“Uh… Derek, this is not what it seems like. I’m a little stoned and seriously
bummed that Lydia dumped me for that prick Jackson.” Derek chuckled, and he
pulled Stile’s hips tightly against his.
Argh! Now Stiles was pissed, about to let loose and tell this asshole what he
really thought of him. Until he realized hip bones don’t throb.
Which meant it was not the Bone he had thought pressing against his belly.
Quickly confirmed when Derek’s hand slipped under the red hoody and headed
south. Those long fingers were down his jeans and pressing into his centre
before he was sure what was happening.
Okay that meant Derek knew, and wasn’t so old fashioned as to let a chance at
free nookie slip away. That did not mean Stiles was going to act like Danny and
give it up to the first guy that crooked a finger. Literally crooked a finger,
gasping as Derek got inside and hit something exquisite.
Derek cut off the wheeze of surprise with his mouth. If Derek’s smell made his
brain spin, the taste of his mouth unplugged any muscle control left. Knees
gave-up as he sagged in Derek’s arms, fingers went deeper still.
Pretty lights exploded behind Stiles eyelids. Who was setting off fireworks
during the worst winter storm in memory? And he was spinning. It was like that
scene from the wizard of OZ only the rooms were spinning around him. Living
room, stair-way, upstairs hall, his bedroom door sweeping past in the gloom,
and his mattress rising up to meet them because Derek was in this crazy dream
too.
Derek was peeling off his T-shirt. How many times had he laid in bed
remembering that day? Jeans hit the bedroom floor, he teased Derek about being
tall, dark, and moody, but under his clothes he was milk pale. The line of fine
black hair down his belly spread out in a lush tangle. Stiles had his hands in
it, the soft strands tickled. That tight belly hovered over his face.
He couldn’t see much in the dark but he was pretty sure where this was going.
“Do you think Danny was dumb to give up his cherry?”
“Stiles… Shut the fuck-up.” That voice was almost gentle, full of longing and
something almost desperate. Well what did he think Derek was going to say? But
his hands were full of something that was not soft. It was hard, hot and
pulsing.
Now Derek’s fingers were not playing havoc with his nervous system a few
thoughts strung themselves together. Stiles had been planning to seduce Scott.
Wasn’t this better?
Derek paused above him in a push-up position. The werewolf’s scent had him
panting. His nipples hard and rough against the hoody he was wearing, swag
style jeans almost painfully tight around his excitement. Tonight he didn’t
care if Derek hated him. His heart had turned over the first time he saw the
black haired boy, and he was out of excuses.
Damn… He had both hands wrapped around Derek and there was plenty left over.
Straining his neck upward Stiles ran the tip over his lips. The older boy
gasped and jerked away. He didn’t care. The werewolf wasn’t getting away that
easy. Derek grumbled a protest as Stiles licked the knob.
The taste… Pine and cinnamon sort of, but it flashed across his nerves like
electricity. Derek reared back on his knees like a stallion. Stiles firm hold
dragged him along to sitting in the middle of his bed. Then Derek’s hands were
gripping either side of his skull as his hips drove forward.
The plum sized knob hit the back of his throat and kept going. Panicked, he let
go to push Derek away. That was useless. The shaft was so wide it paralyzed his
jaw, tissue strained around the throbbing length. An audible ping like breaking
ice was followed by five more and the needle like pain with each. He felt the
cock sliding into his neck. Every muscle spasm as his body fought against
invasion brought another gasp of pleasure from the werewolf. Green eyes glowed
brighter and that light shifted toward amber. Stiles knew what that meant.
Derek coughed loudly and thrust the boy away. He hit the mattress hard enough
to bounce half a foot. The hands that suddenly were shredding his clothes
weren’t human. Stiles could feel the long nails catch and scrape across his
skin. Naked the cold air hit him everywhere Derek wasn’t.
Powerful hands pushed his thighs apart, lifting hips into the air and toward
Derek’s face. The rough scrape of teeth over his ass sent a shiver through him.
He had wondered what it would taste like to really eat ass and desperately hope
Derek had not wondered too or worse developed a liking for it. But that was
crazy Derek had never killed a human; not to feed. A rough tongue pried him
open and Stiles was embarrassed to hear himself squeal.
Oh gods… Yes, that was a bona-fide squeal. Between his spread legs he saw
Derek’s eyes look up, lock with his for a moment. The werewolf buried his face
back in the boy’s butt. Rasping tongue and scraping teeth, they felt so good.
He just couldn’t help himself, the noises kept coming. Every few minutes Derek
would lock eyes with him. Every time they were a bit greener than the time
before.
Finally Derek grabbed his knees and flipped Stiles onto his stomach. There was
an aching hollow place where Derek’s mouth had been. He knew what came next and
didn’t care how much it hurt if only Derek would fill that place. He had never
realized before how empty he was.
Derek was on top of him, growling in his ear. A long deep hungry growl that
should have made him fear for his life. The sizzling length was hot-dogging his
ass, settling deeper, spreading him wider with every stroke. His knees were
creeping forward making room for his lover to take him.
“Say it Stiles. Tell me how much you want me.”
“Fucking asshole! Fuck me now or I’ll breed Scott till it’s coming out his
ears!”
Derek sat back on his heels dragging Stiles hips with him. “As if! You would
have been Scott’s bitch a long time ago if he had half a brain.”
“What are mrfff” Derek had grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face in
the pillow. Face down, ass up, Derek spread his knees wider lining up for the
thrust. The plum coloured nob was on target. It felt silky smooth against his
hole. Hard to believe it would pierce him. Frantically he tried to remember
what he had heard and read about relaxing. The cock was drooling. He could feel
that, warm, slippery, and a vague tingling sensation.
The hand on his neck tightened its grip as the head nudged inside him. He was
expecting pain; he was pretty much a virgin after all. The stretch was
uncomfortable, long, slow steady as Derek filled him. Trying to breathe through
the pillow was the worst part. Then the shaft rumbled over that spot, the place
Derek’s fingers had been and all the pretty colours exploded again.
Derek let go of his neck. The hand tweaked a nipple as it cruised by, circling
Stiles chest before pulling him upright. The werewolf’s nipples were rigid
against his bare back, the shaft slid a little deeper as his weight settled on
Derek’s lap. Canine teeth were sharp where Derek kissed his neck, nipping pale
skin, not quite painful but enough to distract from the throbbing centre of his
belly.
Oh gods, he’s inside me. He’s all the way inside me, and it feels… Fuck! It
feels wonderful.
And they were breathing together, the movement enough to keep the lights
popping behind his eyes. The werewolf growled against his neck, not the kind of
angry growl he associated with Derek but a deep contended hum, and hands on his
body, ragged claws were gone. Human hands, blunt fingers tracing his skin,
brushing a nipple sending gasping joy to his brain. Following the line of his
navel down to his root, circling that, sliding underneath to cup his balls.
Moving behind that to where Derek filled him, soft, blunt, fingers, on his
edges, tickling, teasing.
“You like it?” The breathy growl was hopeful and wistful.
He did, he liked it a lot. More important Derek needed him to like it. As
Christmas presents go, it was a winner.
Words, words weren’t up to this, to describing or explaining Derek inside him.
The question deserved answer and he gave it with a sigh and a wiggle settling
further onto Derek’s cock. That was nice, finding new places inside that had
been untouched. His lover gasped appreciation as Stiles took a more vigorous
approach to acquainting all his untouched places with the glory that was Derek
inside him.
Every little movement was a newly discovered pleasure. He was feeling greedy,
hungry for the joy Derek offered and his hips churned. It was satisfying to
hear the werewolf groan. Stiles had not expected this. He knew it was supposed
to feel good, had experimented but his own fingers were too short to reach all
the places Derek was touching now.
“Oh, gods fuck me. You have no idea how good this is.”
Derek’s hand between his legs slid upward catching an unsuspecting nipple and
giving it a good hard twist. It flashed to his brain making him cry out and
then raced down his spine settling in his belly like a slow burning coal. Both
hands were on his tits now, repeating the process and the heat in his core
grew.
Stiles whimpered. Derek’s hips were moving, finding places he had not been able
to reach on his own. A savage bite on the back of his neck blanked out the
world in a sheet of white heat. Shuddering he pitched forward. Derek controlled
the fall and rode him all the way down.
This time his face missed the pillow, it missed the mattress too. He hung off
the edge of his bed staring at the pine wood floor. Derek had him, a firm grip
on both shoulders arching his back. The werewolf began to pummel him in earnest
as he felt himself dissolve into a puddle of boneless pleasure.
“So fucking beautiful!” Derek hissed. “You got no idea how fucking beautiful
you are.”
And Derek’s hand moved to his root. A slow, long stroke starting at the tip and
working its way down, spreading slickness with those hard hot fingers. A clench
at the bottom and a swift rotating slide back to his tip. And again, and again,
he was shuddering now. His body beyond his own understanding, doing things he
didn’t recognize.
“That’s it. Come-on Stiles we’re almost there.”
The jolt came from his clutch around Derek. “Yes!” The werewolf cried.
Stiles didn’t even recognize the muscles that were clenching so tight around
the cock inside him. They fired off like waves pounding the beach.
Derek’s grunt changed pitch. Both hands seized the younger boy’s hips and
dragged him hard on the spike filling his guts. The sub-sonic rumble in Derek’s
chest gained volume emerging as the deepest most primal wolf’s howl Stiles had
never imagined possible.
The cock inside throbbed and grew; he could feel his guts being displaced as
Derek doubled in size. The blooming heat couldn’t all be his, but his own
orgasm wiped away thought and question. He barely felt Derek drag him back on
the bed and collapse on top of him.
Lying together, wet and shuddering, random flashes firing along his nerves
making him twitch and groan. He let his brain stay quiet, soaking up the be-ing
of Derek inside him. Never mind what it meant. Just be that; just own that,
just…
“Quit thinking so loud. Can’t you just enjoy it?” Derek hissed.
He considered answering, retaliating, but it would require organizing his
nervous system and that was too much work.
Instead he buried his face in the pillow and hitched his hips against Derek.
Daring him to start again.
The house still shivered in the wind, rain rattled on the windows violently.
Stiles was pinned to the mattress, Derek draped over him like a quilt. 5
O’clock shadow rasping the tender skin of his neck while Derek’s breathing
feathered his hair. He wasn’t one to be still, and relaxing was just the
momentary break between pranks waiting for his victims to realize the full
extent of his awesomeness.
At this particular moment Stiles had nothing else he wanted to do, no where he
wanted to go. Derek might be asleep (did werewolves sleep?) but Stiles had his
undivided attention. The Knot was still tightly lodged inside him. He had tried
hard not to smirk when Derek explained. The werewolf was worried it was going
to weird him out. Stiles was just glad Derek couldn’t fuck and then run away.
From what Danny said, that was the normal pattern when guys did it.
“You’re purring.” Stiles arched against Derek’s chest. Considered denying it,
decided not to. He twisted under the heavier boy just enough to kiss him. Derek
growled into his mouth. A few hours ago that growl would have backed him up.
Before he learned his lusting after the werewolf was a two way street.
Derek slid a hand under Stiles face, turning him enough to plunder his mouth
properly. Stiles quit breathing; Derek sucked all the oxygen out of his lungs.
Just when he thought the vacuum was going to implode his chest, Derek exhaled
into him. Everything he had given up came back to him and more. A slow rolling
tide of Derek-ness flowed in.
As the kiss continued, Derek’s knee was sliding up inside his thigh. One leg
being lifted off the bed and over Derek’s head, effectively rolling Stiles onto
his back. Not a bad position when the next beat of your heart depended on
kissing the man between your legs. But his hands were tangled in Derek’s hair,
legs wrapped around the werewolf’s waist. Yes, his life depended on it.
Eventually the tide of identity rushing between them stilled and blended.
Stiles wasn’t certain anymore where he ended and Derek began.
That should mean something his brain insisted. Unimportant his body answered.
It was a ridiculous conversation he decided and abandoned it in favour of
snuggles.
“Good boy.” At least that’s what he thought Derek muttered into his hair.
The tiny little shower had always seemed like the most unlikely place for sex.
Stiles conceded rocket-tube had that part wrong. A tight space, hot water and
olive-oil shower-jell made a festive morning. Eventually the Sour-wolf stepped
in.
“Your dad is going to catch us.” Stiles knew he was pouting.
Derek sighed into his damp scalp. “I will fight for you.” It was Stiles turn to
sigh.
“I know you would.” Disengaging and stepping on the bath mat, handing Derek a
towel. “I know you’re trying to do the least possible amount of damage, but…”
A horrified question rose in Derek’s eyes on the ‘but’ left hanging. He started
out of the shower reaching for Stiles hand.
“but was it really necessary to keep my cherry for a whole year?” He’d timed it
and placed it just right. Derek swiped at him, overbalanced on the wet tile.
Stiles giggled and danced out of reach. No point in trying escaping
retribution, they would be separated soon enough.

He heard the porch beams creak. The Grimoir and copy he was making went into a
desk drawer, under an album with photos of his mom and a pile of random skin-
mags. Scott tapped on the closed window. Stiles waved, nudging the prayer rug
under his bed as he crossed to unlatch the window.
“I know it’s cold, but you never locked it before.”
Stiles shrugged. “Blissful ignorance, over, gone, kaput.”
“Your room is clean.”
He shrugged again. “It happens. Even I have a filth threshold.”
Scott’s postured changed. His joints were loose and easy but he seemed suddenly
taller and broader through the shoulders. “Stiles…”
The weird echo banging around in his skull was all the evidence he needed.
Scott was his best friend; Derek said Stiles was part of Scott’s pack. That did
not mean he accepted Scott had any right to manipulate him with werewolf
powers.
“Don’t do that again.” He was snarling and Scott actually paled. That was
unexpected.
“Don’t use your Alpha tricks on me Scott. It’s not cool, seriously not cool.”
He meant it, which was weird because he never cared before. They had been in
each other’s hip pocket since second grade. It always balanced out, though
Stiles felt like he was playing Robin a little too much lately.
Scott reorganized his objections. “It reeks in here. What have you…?”
Ah man… He used enough Lysol to give himself a headache.
“Oh no, tell me you didn’t… Derek? Derek Hale, seriously?”
Yeppers, busted. Scott staggered backwards into an old chair. He looked a bit
lost and Stiles felt guilty, but that spurred something else. Something he had
kept behind his teeth for too long.
“Dude. You have Allyson. Not right now maybe, but you will everybody knows it.”
Allyson had changed them, turned their friendship inside out. The werewolf
thing was weird but it was the girlfriend that came between them. Scott had
always put his mom first but Stiles was second, until the Argent girl showed
up. Now Stiles wasn’t even third.
Scott’s face was working. He was putting the pieces together, figuring it out.
Probably adding a few bits Stiles didn’t even know existed with his wolf
senses. Stiles sat on his bed and waited for the fallout.
“Look, dude, I’m sorry if this upsets you. But fuck it was Christmas Eve, and
you’re with Allyson, Lydia is with Jackson, Dad was working all night; and fuck
it I just wanted to be with someone… And Derek was here, and he wanted me. Me,
he wanted me. Don’t you fucking get it?”
It was already out of his mouth; Stiles heard himself and clamped a hand over
the betraying words too late. He couldn’t take it back. If he wanted to keep
this secret Scott was going to die, right here, right now.
Like that was going to happen and anyway he’d never manage to hide the body.
Scott was shifting around on the chair uncomfortably. Okay, it was an awkward
conversation to be having with anyone.
“Okay, yeah I’m upset, but not for the reasons you think.” His best friend got
up and started pacing. Yeah I get it, I know you were waiting for me and I
didn’t show, or call, or send smoke signals, fuck! Yeah I get it.”
Then Scott pivoted to face Stiles, his body language switched from distracted
to laser focus. “Did he tell you what it would mean? Before you guys did… it,
did Derek tell you what would happen?”
Stiles felt like a yawning pit had just opened at his feet. Scott was arrogant,
careless, and self-centred. Until someone was in trouble and then he was a
bloody super hero. His friend had just flipped into hero mode and Stiles
couldn’t convince himself that Scott was mistaken.
“Uh… no. I mean, we talked afterwards, but nothing that should bother you this
much, why?”
“Where is Derek now?”
He was about to answer ‘fuck if he had any idea, Derek didn’t answer to him.’
Except, he had a sudden image of Derek, sitting under a big tree and smiling
contentedly. It was not just imagined, it was like looking out a window. Then
Derek’s eyes met his and the smile grew. “Stiles… you found me.”
And then he was slapping himself, arms flailing in distress. Scott was
watching. Stiles could practically see the steam pouring from his ears. It was
surprisingly grounding to watch the werewolf slowly lose control. About the
time Scott’s eyes started to shift toward amber, Stiles got his voice back.
“What The Fuck Scott! What just happened?” his voice was still ragged but at
least it didn’t squeak.
The question brought Scott back and the shaggy haired boy started to pace
again. “He made you part of his pack.” The look on his friends face was pure
murder, Scott was not only capable of the deed but of disposing the body as
well. It was a scary thought but also satisfying.
“No… no, he didn’t bite me. Beard-burn, yes; a couple of hickies even, but no
broken skin. Derek promised. He wouldn’t turn me.” Now, his voice was turning
shrill. If he was a fool? If Derek had tricked him? If last night was a lie?
“No!” Scot had crossed the room, was kneeling in front of Stiles and holding
both shoulders firmly. “No; he didn’t turn you.”
“Then what was that?”
Scott hesitated a moment before answering. “That was the pack bond. You don’t
have to be a werewolf to be part of our pack.” Stiles felt his jaw drop. Scott
chuckled, applied two fingers to Stiles chin and closed his mouth. Then he bent
down and kissed him. It was not a chaste kiss either.
They both heard 180 pounds to attitude land on the porch roof. Scott backed
away chuckling but the glow was back in his eyes. Derek dived through the
window, transforming as he rolled to his feet, claws out, fangs bared.
Stiles was on his feet, and shouting.
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” Both boys froze. Looking from one
to the other, he stepped between them. His prayer rug was still peeking out
from under the bed.
“New rule. Everyone uses the bloody door from now on.” They grinned at him,
both of them. They didn’t think he meant it, and they didn’t think he could
back it up. He was going to enjoy the look on their faces when they found out
different.
“This room is too small. The werewolf smell is giving me a headache. Both of
you go downstairs.” It was enough to flip their transformation back toward
human. They shuffled their feet but neither moved to exit. Gods! Two alphas in
a room. One at a time they could be sensible, put them in a room together…
Still, he knew how to manage this. “Scott there are cookies and a fresh jug of
milk in the kitchen.” Taking his friend by the shoulder and steering him toward
the stairs, over his shoulder. “Derek, I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you
want anything?”
It was all going very well, Scott was almost at the bottom of the stairs when
Derek’s hand slid down the back of his jeans. Stiles swallowed the squeal,
squirmed away from the Alpha and shot him a dire look as he retreated. Derek’s
answering smile showed his teeth. Stiles flinched. Okay managing them was too
strong a term.
There were sandwiches, cookies, and milk. Derek didn’t turn his nose up at any
of it. Eating gave Stiles brain fuel and it kept everybody’s mouth busy enough
he could process what had been said before something else confused the issue.
He felt better than normal. He had felt immensely better as soon as Scott
arrived and exponentially improved when Derek showed up. He didn’t think it was
just because he was happy.
“So… stronger, faster, better, when we are in a pack. That’s supposed to be how
it works, yes?”
Shoe-laces apparently were the topic of discussion. He flopped back on the
couch waiting for the alphas to man-up.
“I didn’t want to freak you out with too much at once.” Derek was still staring
at his shoes. That was never a good sign. Neither of these guys would
deliberately hurt him, Stiles was sure of that. On the other hand this
assumption they could make his choices for him; that had to go.
“Ya know what? I want my Eef-ing Honeymoon.” Both of them looked at him like he
was speaking Greek.
“Scott, I love ya but get out. Come back when you have something useful to say,
or in a week, whichever comes last.”
Turning to Derek. “You are taking me out to dinner. Something French I think
but not so classy I have to dress up.” It was almost worth it to see Derek’s
jaw drop.
“Go on scoot, both of you. I’ve got better things to do than sit here and
listen to your hair grow.”
“But…” Scott’s mouth was moving only nothing else came out.
Stiles didn’t feel like waiting for Scott to organize an argument. “But what?
I’m part of the pack now, and I’m not a werewolf, right?” They nodded
agreement.
“I’m your mate, right?” Looking at Derek.
“You will be.” The alpha said determinedly. Stiles felt his face split in a
dazzling grin. “Oh, so it’s not a done deal. Good to know.” He left out that
Derek better make a good show if he wanted a Stiles shaped lump in his bed.
He could still feel the buzz of Scott’s kiss almost an hour after the fact,
maybe that was why the tension between the alphas ratcheted up again,
compelling Stiles to add. “And if you kill each other… I am definitely not
fucking the survivor.”
Derek snorted, treating them to one of his trademark snarky smiles. “No worries
there. If he touches you again, Allyson will kill him for me. That is one Bitch
that suffers no rivals.”
On that note Derek snagged his leather jacket and made an exit.
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