Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1001 Nights with a Werewolf
moushkas

The morning of Stiles’ 18th birthday was something the boy had dreamed of since he was a small child. Since he first heard the phrase, ‘you’ll can when you’re 18’. He remember Jackson’s 18th birthday the month before. The guy got all these women in skimpy bathing suits, he got a brand new car, and he was the center of attention for a whole day. Stiles was sure if they were born a hundred years earlier, Jackson would have gotten an elephant ride through the town square. Instead, he got a party.

Stiles wanted a party. Instead, Stiles got soggy pancakes and his best friend crying into them.

Stiles came down in his best pair of skinny jeans and his favorite orange and blue polo. It wasn’t his usual outfit, actually worn carpenter jeans and raggedy tee shirts covered by some long sleeve shirt was his normal attire. Something to hid his ridiculously pale arms but it was Stiles Day and he was going to wear what he wanted without shame. He was ready for some of Mrs. McCall’s chocolate chip pancakes she promised to make him. She kept her promise, looming over the Stilinski stove, flipping said pancakes but it was her son that ruined everything.

“Hey,” Stiles grinned then got a look at his friend’s face. The large brown eyes that usually followed his fiancee’s every move were filled with tears, big fat tears that made the 17 year old look like a small child. Stiles sighed, “Well who spit in your cheerios?”

He wasn’t trying to be bitter but he was sure Jackson’s birthday didn’t involve consoling a love-struck best friend.

Mrs. McCall heaved a frustrated sigh, Stiles’ father sipped his coffee quietly and Scott whined into a plate full of pancakes that Stiles was pretty sure were meant for him, “King Derek chose Allison.”

The frustration of being ignored on his birthday washed away with that chilling realization. He sat down in his chair, heaving a great sigh. The dark secret of their little kingdom was the wolf king Derek Hale.

Six years ago the son of King Hale was crowned and married to Kate Argent, common woman from the Beacon Hills district. Despite the five year age difference, it seemed like the two were in love and the kingdom thrived. Then King Derek found his lovely bride in bed with someone else, and the people of the Hale Kingdom were left to suffer.

Every night, for almost two years now, one young woman between the ages of 16 and 23 was chosen to marry Derek, warm his bed for the night and wake with a slit throat the next day. No one was sure what Derek was looking for but five hundred and so women before Allison hadn’t been it. And Allison was the baby niece of the woman who broke his heart. It would be a shock if Allison made it past the ‘I do’.

And from that broken puppy look all over his best friends face, Scott knew it too.

Stiles just couldn’t even muster the strength to to eat the pancakes.

Scott began to cry, “How...Stiles, I can’t live without her.”

Scott’s mom stopped flipping pancakes. She shuddered, her breath hitching before she threw the pan down and ran out of the room. Stiles’ father followed her, giving Stiles one of those ‘fix this’ looks that made Stiles kind of queasy.

Stiles took Scott’s shoulder in a strong grip, “Dude, I know. Well, I don’t know. I mean I’m the resident male virgin around here. But I mean, I guess I know. It’s gonna hurt, Dude, but we’ll get through it.”

Scott whipped his eyes, “I don’t think so, Dude.”

Stiles smiled though it hurt to do so, “Sure you will, Scott. It’s not like you’re totally in love with her? And besides, look at my Dad. He managed to get on without My Mom.”

Stiles chose not to mention the late night drinking, the binge eating, the hollow smiles and the random broken glass that he found for years after his mother’s death. Because Stiles was older now and he could be there for his best friend.

“Stiles, she’s the one.” Scott whispered, “She’s the only one. And when she dies tonight, so will I.”

And it was terrifying to know how true that was. Scott would probably take his own life tonight and Stiles would be alone. Alone without a best friend, without a surrogate mother or sister, without a girlfriend. Alone.

From that hollow, terrifying feeling sparked the most brilliant, stupid idea Stiles had ever had. He rubbed Scott’s shoulder as he thought it over, ideas flying a mile a minute. He could do it and no one would really miss him. Well, Scott and his Dad for a little while but live would move on. Life always carried on.

“Scott,” Stiles bit his lip, “I want you to be really sure that Allison is the one. She’s you’re soul mate, right?”

Scott nodded, “Yeah. She’s it for me.”

“And,” Stiles inhaled sharply, trying to fight the tears, “And if I somehow, I’m not around. Will you take care of my father?”

Scott’s head shot up, wide eyed, hopefully and completely broken, “Stiles, no.”

“I could look pretty fly in a dress.” Stiles joked, “I’m lanky like Allison. And he’s never met the girl, I can pretend.”

Scott grabbed both of Stiles’ shoulders, crying big fat tears, “No, Stiles. I won’t ask that of you. Maybe we could run away? Allison and I.”

“And Beacon Hills would be crushed by the Royal army. Remember what happened the next district over.” It was unspoken but the phrase, ‘now a pile of stone and bodies’ made the air between them heavy and cold. Stiles smiled softly, “I love you, Man. You’ve got something incredible with Allison. I’ve got nothing with no one.”

“He’ll kill you.” Scott sniffled but there was something lighter within him. Something purely hopeful, “The second he tries to take off your pants.”

Stiles grinned, “Then I’ll just charm him into submission.”

Scott laughed, grabbing Stiles into a powerful, painful hug. Scott squeezed him tight and breathed in his scent. Stiles did the same and tried to fight the tears forming in his eyes. Soon he was going to have to say ‘goodbye’ to his father and confront the Argents with his master plan. But for now, Stiles hugged his best friend and tried to feel like a hero.

---

Saying ‘goodbye’ wasn’t as difficult as Stiles had imagined. Mrs. McCall cried and squeezed him tightly, his father hugged him as well. Stiles had expected his father to be serious about this, and mostly quiet. But he hadn’t expected his father to say he was proud, to call Stiles a hero. And Stiles was too shocked to respond himself. So he left the home, he held high, mind somewhere far away.

“Stiles!” He heard a tiny voice call before a body collided with his leg. He looked down to see a a small body hidden beneath blonde curls and big blue eyes. It was Isaac, the neighbor boy whom Stiles practically adopted after catching Isaac’s father beating him. The boy, along with the other two orphans of the village Erica and Boyd, had latched onto Stiles as guardian and mentor and would probably takes Stiles’ impending death the hardest.

Stiles tried not to feel happy about that but it was nice to know he’d always be missed by Isaac.

“Hello, Isaac.” Stiles reached down and rubbed the guy’s head, “What are you-”

“I heard Scott,” Isaac squeezed tightly, “You can’t go. King Derek will kill you!”

Stiles sighed. He took Isaac’s shoulder and looked the boy in the eye, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to woo King Derek until he loves me then we’re going to come get you, Erica and Boyd.”

Isaac sniffled, “You promise?”

Stiles smiled brightly, trying to ease all the fear from the small boy’s expression, “Cross my heart, Isaac.”

Isaac smiled, “Can I stay with you?”

Stiles nodded, “Until the wedding.”

Isaac took Stiles’ hand and gripped it tightly. They walked the path to the Argents in silence. When he reached the home, he was approached by Allison, tears streaming down her pretty face and body covered in a massive robe. She didn’t say anything, just took Stiles in her tiny arms and gripped him tightly. She cried into his shoulder, periodically muttering, ‘I’m sorry’ through her tears. Stiles just held her, more resigned to his end the longer she held him.

Allison and her mother dressed him in the lace and silk wedding gown that Allison was set to wear. Again, Stiles was faced with his incredibly lanky frame and rather feminine bone structure. His shoulders were thin and pale, exposed by the strapless bodice. Allison’s mother took a silk shawl with diamonds sewed into intricate patters and wrapped it around Stiles’ shoulders. It covered the pale shoulders and Stiles’ lack of cleavage, giving him a delicate curve around his waist.

Isaac gapped beside Stiles, “You look pretty.”

Stiles laughed, “Thanks, Dude.”

“You just need a wig and veil and you’ll be able to fake it for the king.” Allison smiled though it was with a bit of sadness. She fumbled with the wig, a long piece of brown curls that she would pin up once it was on Stiles. She exhaled loudly like she was dispelling her grief then placed the wig on top of his head. She kissed his cheek as her mother slowly pulled the pieces up, “I can’t express how grateful I am, Stiles.”

He smiled at her, “I know. Maybe next time you’ll put out.” Allison laughed and her mother gave him a nasty look, “I mean, well...So, let’s get this rigged wedding on the road, shall we?”

Allison’s mother rolled her eyes, “I need to get your veil. He’ll hardly be able to resist you.”

Allison stood in front of the mirror, blocking Stiles’ view of himself. Isaac stood loyally at his side, small hands clutching Stiles’ glove covered hands. He wondered if he could be convincing enough to get past the ‘I Do’, maybe even the honeymoon night. The thought of the wedding night, of what he could be doing if he acted well enough made him hot. He blushed a deep read and secretly hoped the skirt of the gown was big enough to hide his erection.

Allison’s mother noticed though, chuckling behind him as she pinned the veil to the twists of hair. Most of the thin fabric fell down the back of the dress. Allison’s mother grasped the other half and began to fold it over the front of Stile’s face, Allison herself stepped aside to let Stiles get a look at himself.

He made a pretty girl, simple face with wide brown eyes and puffy red lips. His white skin was actually attractive against the off white gown. The thick waves of brown hair gave him an elegant, grown up look. If Stiles had seen a woman like this walk down the street, he probably would have looked twice.

Allison’s mother smiled and folded the veil over Stile’s face, covering him up. She took his free hand and led him to his impending doom. It was customary for the bride and her mother to walk the main road, through the woods and to the Hale Castle where they would marry and spend the night. Stiles hoped that his disguise wouldn’t be messed up from the sweat as he walked.

Allison’s mother encouraged the slow pace, “Speak as little as possible, whisper if you have to. And when he has you alone, figure out a way to survive.”

Stiles gulped, “Should I let him...touch me?”

Allison’s mother was quiet for sometime. They were, in fact, at the castle, starring down the Royal Hale Army before she spoke. She turned to him, hands covering his cheeks. She smiled softly at him, eyes filled with pride and grief, “Be brave.”

The guards took him by the arms then, preventing her from explaining any more. Isaac tried to follow but Allison’s mother took him tightly in her arms. He screamed and cried as Stiles was forced to walk the long path to the King’s throne.

“I present to you Ms. Allison Argent.” Someone announced as the reached the King. Derek Hale was all dark and terrifying with hazel eyes that stared through Stiles’ veil, probably pierced his soul. His hair was dark and wild, body dark beneath a black tuxedo. He looked like he hadn’t slept nor cared to look in a mirror for years. Stiles felt a pang of sadness for the broken King but he brushed it off.

The King approached Stiles, muscles rippling beneath the suit. Stiles had to fight the arousal back as well. If he had to put out for the King, at least he was handsome. King Derek held his hand out to Stiles, grasping it tightly and pulling him up to the platform. Stiles flinched when the King gripped his hand tightly. The King leaned in and hissed into his exposed ear, “Was that your son crying? You know the rules are that the bride must be virgin.”

Stiles gulped. King Derek was gripping his hand hard, clearly showing how upset he was. He squeezed Stiles’ hand tighter, causing the boy in disguise to squawk in pain. He leaned forward into Derek’s space, trying not to catch the smell of the woods coming off the man. He whispered harshly, hoping he sounded like a girl, “He isn’t my son by birth. He’s an orphan that I mentor.”

King Derek stared at Stiles, wild green eyes focused right where Stile’s eyes would be. Stiles gulped, hoping his identity hadn’t been spoiled. King Derek’s glare deepened, eyes becoming something bright and blue. Just when Stiles thought he’d be cut down, King Derek took his hand and led him up to the priest.

Stiles could hardly focus through the rest of the ceremony. He was sure that his identity had been revealed but the marriage ceremony continued like nothing was different. When it came time for the big reveal, Stiles held his breath and closed his eyes.

Through the glossy frame of the veil, Stiles could pretend this wasn’t happening. He could still believe he was dreaming, waiting to wake up on the morning of his 18th birthday. He felt the veil move off his face, the sun beating down on his exposed eyes, nose and lips. He felt calloused hands grasp his round, baby fat cheeks, thumbs brush along his lips. Stiles slowly opened his eyes to meet Derek’s eyes.

He was struck by the thoughtfulness, by the all encompassing loneliness, by the glint of hope in his suddenly bright blue eyes. Stiles gulped audibly and watched as King Derek leaned forward, pulling Stiles closer. They kissed and Stiles was assaulted with the heat and taste of his new husband. He shuttered in pleasure, gasping against King Derek’s lips.

“I now pronounce you King and his Queen,” The priest announced and though there wasn’t any cheering, Stiles found himself a little lost in feelings of elation. Even for a little while, he had someone who looked at him like that, like he was perfect and important.

King Derek took his hand and pulled him towards the castle. The commoners below would celebrate another successful wedding, mourn another villager lost to the king. Maybe a few of them would realize that this time it was a son. Maybe someday they would know that this was a sacrifice to save his best friend. Maybe someone would call him a hero someday.

King Derek took Stiles to his room, a wide expanse of pillows, fur rugs and a large bed in the center of it all. Off to one end was a bathroom area, tiled and lined with perfume and flowers. He imagined some huge bath in there, probably filled with constantly hot water. Even if it was his last night on Earth, it would be spent in luxury.

The king led Stiles to the bed, hand squeezing so tightly Stiles had to cry out in pain. He slipped his hand out of the kings grasp and backed away, “Look, I understand you want to just get this all over with but have some respect for me, man. I haven’t done this before and these shoes aren’t very comfortable. And I kind have to gear myself up for the whole your dick near my...stuff...”

The king snarled at Stiles and the boy idly wondered if the rumors of the Hale family descending from wolves was just a fairytale. He backed away from Derek, plastering himself against the wall and hoping he didn’t seem too frightened. The king neared him, hands clenched, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“What?” Stiles laughed nervously, “What? Of course not. You’re the king. You’ve had the most education out of all of us and I work in a library? I mean, idiot? Only if I wanted my face bitten off. Which I don’t. If I have to die it would be from too much sex or suffocating me in my sleep. You know, where I don’t have to feel pain. I don’t have a high tolerance for pain.”

The King was suddenly on him, large hand across Stiles’ mouth. He growled low and in the back of his throat which Stiles wouldn’t admittedly proclaim that did not excite him at all. The King leaned in close, sniffing Stiles’ jaw, his free hand moving across the shawl around Stiles’ shoulders, “Shut up.”

Stiles nodded. King Derek’s hands moved from the edges of the shawl to the not that kept it tied together. He untied the shawl, ripped it from Stiles shoulder. His nose moved from Stiles’ jaw to his neck, lips pressing against Stiles’ skin. Stiles shuddered, breath hitching as pleasure curled around his stomach. It wasn’t fair to feel this good, this hot right before he died.

The man’s hand moved from Stiles’ mouth to his hair, taking a mass of tangles and pulling until it fell from Stiles’ head. The cross dresser gasped when his shaved head was revealed. The king pulled away, one hand placed against Stiles’ sternum. He growled, “You are not an Argent. You don’t smell like Kate.”

Stiles gulped, “Yeah so about that.” Derek’s hard glare moved up to Stiles and he stopped his babbling before it got out of control, “I can explain.”

The King’s fingers gripped the edges of the dress and pulled, ripping the silk away from Stiles’ body. The new bride was relieved that he had kept on the white boxer briefs though it did nothing to hid his erection. Apparently aggressive was what got little Stiles excited. Derek didn’t seem to notice; he grabbed the smaller boy’s upper arm and threw him on the bed.

He snarled loudly, “You’ll tell me.”

Stiles nodded frantically, “I will, but it’s going to take awhile. Can...can I have some other clothes?”

The king growled and shuffled towards a low dresser. He pulled a pair of sweats and a shirt from the drawer and tossed it at his new husband. Stiles shimmied into the clothing as Derek to his seat next to the boy. He leaned across a few pillows and watched Stiles.

The boy heaved a great sigh and started all the way from the beginning, from the very moment he met Scott McCall. He loved to tell stories, especially ones about him and Scott. Not many people liked to listen, normally walking away before he even got warmed up. But Derek, the King, was focused on every every word. He even got Stiles back on topic when his thought began to stray.

Stiles barely got to when Allison and Scott met when it was sunrise. He paused, watching the night turn to day, shocked that his virginity and larynx was still in tact. The king looked over his shoulder, watching the sky lighten himself. He turned back to Stiles with a deep frown, “So you and Scott were looking for a body?”

Stiles turned back to the King, “Um...” It was like the plans were coming together. The king liked his stories, liked his antics and wished for Stiles to continue. He coughed, “It’s morning, sir.”

“Derek.” The king growled, “And I want to hear the rest of the story.”

Stiles had found his edge. He smiled proudly and eased back against the cushy bed, “Well, I would but I’m very tired. We stayed up all night. I haven’t bathed or ate.”

Derek nodded and moved from the bed, “Rest then. I’ll see you tonight.”

The king made it to the door before Stiles got his thoughts together, “My name is Stiles.”

The king turned back to him, “I know. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Stiles.”

Stiles watched the King leave, grasping his throbbing erection tightly. He exhaled when the King left, relieved that he could think somewhat straight again. He laid across the bed, wondering how his life suddenly became like this. He was still alive, still married to the king, and still a virgin.

He growled, “Dammit! I’m still a virgin!”

Chapter Text

1001 Nights With A Werewolf
moushkas

Part Two

In a way, Stiles was relieved they hadn’t gotten to the sex. It seemed to spell the end for all of Derek’s former wives. They got his rocks off then he beheaded him, just like a female mantis. So Stiles found himself fortunate enough to have escaped that fate. He was even more relieved after reading a book on anal sex one of the servants had brought him. It looked...messy and painful. Stiles did not have a high tolerance for pain. So he promised to do what he could to avoid the inevitable anal cherry popping.

That night, after a thorough bath put on by the servants and an awkward but filling dinner with the King, Stiles took the opportunity to pick up the story where he left off. The King didn’t seem to mind one bit. Sure, he had told Stiles several times to shut his face during dinner but the moment Stiles began the story, Derek relaxed and took his seat on the bed. Stiles elaborated on the first moment Scott and Allison met as much as he could. He quoted his best friend nearly word-for-word as he described Allison. Derek just laid across one side of the bed, watching Stiles’ wild hand gestures as he described Allison like she was a goddess on Earth.

When the sun rose and Stiles yawned, Derek rose from his place on the bed and left. If Stiles had had the energy he would have asked why the King allowed Stiles to babble all night instead of pleasuring him, but his throat hurt and he was asleep before the king had even left the room.

The next day and even the follow week had all been the same. Stiles told wild stories of Scott and Allison’s first date, dodging Allison’s father as Scott tried to sneak out of the house, Stiles relaying messages between the two when her father had discovered their relationship. Each night, for over a month, Derek would lie there and listen to Stiles all night. His attention was entirely focused on the boy. And when daylight peeked in through the window, he would leave without a word.

It had been a full month before Stiles realized he’d outlasted even the former queen, Kate, as Derek’s wife. And that he was still a virgin.

Even more worrisome was the fact that he was growing closer to the end of the story. The night before he had mentioned Scott’s secret proposal and that had happened three days before his 18th birthday, before he had sacrificed his life to...this.

If the story ended, if he had to tell Derek that he had come in disguise to save his best friend’s love life...well, then that was it for Stiles’ usefulness. He would have answered the King’s initial question, they may possibly have sex, and then Derek would behead him. Stiles had to plan a distraction, plot a method to continue to distract Derek.

That night he tried to segway from the original story. He leaned against a pillow, one precariously set against the King’s sternum and smiled, “Did I ever tell you about the orphans in the village, Isaac, Erica and Boyd? I mean, I told you about Isaac once. About how he wasn’t my kid. Well, its not like I’m his father...more like a big brother for them. Have I told you about them?”

“No,” Derek gave him a looks, his fingers were dancing around the comforter that was bunched around Stiles’ hips. Stiles could feel the heat from Derek, feel it burn through the space between the fingers and Stiles’ own skin. He wondered what that meant, what the itch in his belly was but, during the nights when it occurred, he couldn’t allow himself to stop and think about it; less he bore the king and lose a limb. Derek gave him a strange look, one that made his stomach flutter, “Does it have something to do with Scott and Allison?”

It didn’t actually. It had nothing to do with the lovebirds except, as they were off discovering their love, Stiles distracted himself from loneliness by befriending the local pariahs. But he had to ensure his own survival and the little adventures that he and the orphans got into would distract the king for at least another month.

Derek looked at him, hazel eyes reading every muscle twitch in Stiles’ face. The king new when Stiles lied, would know that he was trying to distract the king and probably would get angry. So Stiles gave in, shook his head ‘no’ and waited for the king’s reaction.

He merely grinned wolfishly and laid his hand across Stiles’ silk covered thigh, “Then save that for another time. Tell me more about Scott and Allison. Scott asked Allison to marry him?”

Stiles coughed, choking on his own depressing. He could make this last tonight, maybe even tomorrow, but that was it. Tomorrow would be his last night in the presence of the King. But maybe Derek would be gentle, like his thumb felt now. It stroked against the silk, heating the skin underneath, causing Stiles’ belly to flutter and warm in a delicious way. Maybe that’s what sex with Derek would be like, hot and comforting. It would be a bittersweet end to Stiles’ 18 years and if he spent it with a man like Derek, death would be worth it.

His sacrifice would mean something, even to the King. Who, for a month and three days, was not alone, bitter and violent. And Stiles found that to be the most rewarding, the best feeling in the world. That he, lowly, unappreciated Stiles made the King happy for just a month and three days. It was not something Stiles was willing to cope with right away so he straightened his shoulders and pushed all the feelings away. He waived his hands around in front of him, mimicking Scott’s clumsy nature, “Yeah. There they are in the forest just outside the village. They’d just nearly avoided Allison’s dad who thought that Scott was one of the dirty men that like to sneak into the village and take innocent women for the night. They’re lying there with all the adrenaline pumping through his veins and Scott says, “Will you marry me?”. Allison was quiet at first, because what kind of proposal was that-”

“Do the men do that?” Derek interrupted, the first time he’d ever stopped Stiles in the middle of the night.

Stiles stared at him, “Yeah. Some wanders from other villages will rape the girls. My dad had to put a curfew on all the young people because of it. As far as I know, it only happens in Beacon Hills.”

“Why?” Derek asks and Stiles realizes that Derek looks considered, alarmed. His hands are a tight grip on Stiles’ thigh and he can see gnarly nails growing. Stiles idly wondered how true the stories were, the ones that said the Hale family was born from wolves.

“Um....” Stiles whimpered when the grip tightened. Derek just slightly let up on his grasp, fingers stroking the tense skin, “You chose a lot of women from Beacon Hills. They think you favor us though killing off 18 year old virgins is hardly favoritism.”

Derek growled in the back of his throat. Something that was dark, primal and terrifying but little Stiles responded pleasantly to it. In fact, Stiles wanted a little more growling. He wanted a recording to plan on repeat while Stiles stroked himself to completion.

Derek stood suddenly, body tense and shaking slightly. Stiles gave him a concerned look, reaching for the King. When he caught Derek’s face he pulled away, terrified by everything he saw in Derek’s dark eyes. The King turned on Stiles and snarled, “We’ll resume this tomorrow.”

And with that, Derek stormed out of the bedroom.

Stiles felt...hurt. He felt the heat and flutter in his stomach dissipate. After a moment of staring at the door, willing the King to walk back through, he fell down against the bed. He curled against the side of the bed where Derek had been laying. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the spicy scent of the King, of his husband and Stiles wondered if he was falling in love.

He was asleep before he could answer himself, dreaming of fingers running through his short hair.

---

The news of the royal army clearing the forest of wanders and rapists from other villages hit Stiles the next day. The King had returned the night before and Stiles had described the entire night of Scott and Allison’s engagement. He described the forest at night from personal experience, the way the two rolled around in the dirt was by using Scott’s version as he had told Stiles the next day. And Stiles ended the night with Scott sneaking into Stiles’ bedroom to explain it all. Derek had left content and when Stiles woke up the next morning he heard from a servant that all of the men had been arrested by the Royal Guard.

That night, Stiles had wanted to ask. He wanted to know if it had to do with him. If he had some influence on the King becoming a better person, if this month and three days was as important to Derek as it was for Stiles. But he didn’t. Instead Stiles rushed through the day before his birthday, “So, because they were engaged, Scott thought he could sneak into Allison’s room for a booty call. Turns out Mr. Argent was in the room with Allison, telling her that he had been wrong about Scott and that the he could come for dinner.” Derek laughed, a soft and airy chuckle topped with a crooked smile that sent Stiles from flaccid to rock hard in a second, “I guess it was awkward but Mr. Argent finally agreed to their engagement.”

Derek shifted in his place, moving his head to rest on Stiles’ knee. He inhaled deeply, soaking in the scent of Stiles, most likely smelling his arousal and Stiles flustered under the attention. He tried to move, to cover his erection but the King placed a hand around Stiles’ slim hip, keeping him there, “So they were happy?”

“Y-yeah,” Stiles laughed nervously, “They were planning a wedding when...”

There was a strained moment between them, one where Stiles tried to find the right words, to not blame Derek for a sudden unhappiness. Especially when it led to Stiles’ own contentment. He would never regret giving himself up for Allison and Scott, not if it meant all of these precious moments with a lonely, handsome King. Stiles wondered if Derek was already piecing together the truth, if he knew what would happen at this point in the story.

He was tense against Stiles’ leg, hand just short of a painful grip against Stiles’ hip. The boy took that moment to place his free hand on the midnight locks of his husband. He stroked his fingers through the ends first before running through again and stroking along the scalp. The king relaxed against him, a quiet rumble deep in his chest that may have been a purr. Stiles laughed, “I just turned 18. I wanted to have this big celebration and lose my virginity, drink wine and all that stuff but you chose Allison.” Derek’s breath hitched at the comment. Even if Stiles’ voice had been free from accusation, the truth was just as resentful, “Scott is like my brother. I would do anything for him and its not like I have some pretty girl waiting to give me babies. I think it worked out for everyone.”

Derek nuzzled into Stiles’ crotch, breathing deep against the boy’s wilting erection, “Yes.”

The hand on Stiles’ hip moved up the sternum until it reached the chest. Derek pushed Stiles back to lay on the bed, limbs spread wide and face still buried in Stiles’ crotch, nosing at the leaking erection. Stiles whimpered, “Derek.”

The king mouthed at the penis, his hands stoking up and down Stiles’ chest, rubbing against the exposed pale skin. He pulled at the silk sheets and boxers that Stiles wore, revealing the erection Stiles sported. The younger boy whimpered, “Stop...”

Stiles knew this was a bad idea. This was the sex he dreaded. He wasn’t ready to do this, to have this deep moment with Derek and inevitably die in the morning. He wasn’t read to leave Derek alone again.

The king continued to nose against Stiles’ dick, inhaling the smell of the boy. Stiles’ fingers, the ones that had been stroking Derek’s scalp, pulled against the man. He tried to pull the King away from that area, tried to stop this before it started. But the King ignored him, growling in his throat and mouthing at the cock in front of him.

Stiles whimpered in response, “Please stop it.”

Derek moved away from the appendage, taking the thin hips in his grasp and moving his husband in a way that left the boy at Derek’s mercy, the king lying between his open legs. Derek kissed the head lightly before he licked the head.

Stiles’ humped the air, body seeking the feeling again but his mind still resisted. If they finished this, Stiles was going to die and Derek would marry another. He cried out when Derek took the head of the cock in his mouth and sucked, “I don’t want it.”

Derek refused to listen, swallowing Stiles’ cock until his nose touched Stiles’ abs. Derek breathed in deep, through vibrating around the dick. Stiles gripped the sheet with his free hand, stars flashing behind his eyes. He cried out from the unwanted pleasure. He tried to pull at Derek again, but the King continued to suck, his mouth now moving up and down the shaft.

Stiles felt his hips try to thrust, try to seek the friction it needed to complete but Derek kept his hips pinned to the bed. Derek moved his head up and down on Stiles’ cock, moaning when the head pushed against the back of his throat. Stiles whimpered, the burning sensation turned in his stomach with every bob of Derek’s head. He groaned against the feelings, his eyes watering as he got closer to his inevitable orgasm.

He gripped Derek’s hair tightly, pulling the strands in hopes that the King would move away. He cried actually tears, “Derek, please stop.”

Derek didn’t. He moved on hand from Stiles’ thin hip to grasp his ass. He squeezed tightly, fingers brushing against Stiles’ twitching hole. The boy felt his orgasm like a punch to the face. It was hot, burning up his spine and out of his throat, long streams of sperm releasing into Derek’s mouth. Tears fell in large drops from his eyes, the bliss of completion was stifled with the thoughts of their time together coming to an end. He moved the hand formally gripping the sheets to his face to cover his pitiful crying.

Derek lapped at his deflated cock and the heated skin around it. He nipped at the hip, right around where Derek’s thumb had left an impression. He bit down, causing Stiles to whimper more. When a bruise formed, Derek pulled away from Stiles, watching the boy struggled to regain his breath. Derek was quiet, watching Stiles cry underneath him, his silence only depressing Stiles more and causing more tears to fall. Finally Derek moved away completely, retreating from the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

Stiles curled into himself, wailing into the sheets.

Apparently, he was to pathetic to have more than oral sex with. He was too much of a disappointment to ask for reciprocation. He was too wretched to be killed.

Stiles cried himself to sleep that night and woke up with fears that his month and now four days with the king had been meaningless.

---

Derek did not visit him that night. Stiles laid awake in the freshly cleaned sheets most of the night, waiting for the king to enter the door. Somewhere in the early morning hours he nodded off, falling into a deep enough sleep that he hadn’t heard the door open or a body lay against him in the too big bed.

Stiles woke alone the next morning. The servants did not come to wake him, nor did they bring the usual stack of pancakes for breakfast. Stiles rolled out of the bed himself, walked into the joined bathroom and ran the hot water himself. When he was clean, the remnants of his grief and loneliness washed away in water that smelled like flowers from the mountains, he ventured out of the room for the first time since his arrival in the castle.

He found his way through the maze of hallways to the kitchens where he swallowed stale bread and drank water from the sink. The castle was quiet, absent of all life and Stiles idly wondered if he’d been so bad in bed that Derek uprooted the capital and moved away.

He felt fresh tears burn against his eyes and decided to return to the bedroom to sleep away his thoughts.

He returned to find his bed occupied by a mop of sandy colored curls and bright blue eyes peaking out from a pile of pillows. He stopped in his place at the door, staring back at the eyes. A second set, these a much dark blue with a much curlier mop of blond hair appeared beside the first. Finally, a pair of too big brown eyes set against dark skin raised up to look at Stiles. It was like all the weight had fled from him upon seeing those three faces.

Isaac was the first to leap across the space and into Stiles’ arms, “Stiles!”

Stiles cried, squeezing the boy tightly with one arm and beckoning Boyd and Erica to come as well. They ran into his free arm and the three hugged.

“What’s going on?” Stiles cried against Boyd’s nearly bald head. He stroked his cheek across the small curls, memorizing the feeling just in case.

“Some men came to the orphanage with Scott.” Erica grinned, retreating from Stiles’ hug to lay across the bed again, “They said they were taking us back to you, forever.”

Stiles stared at Erica, eyes wide and mouth opened in shock, “What?”

“You’re our Daddy now.” Isaac grinned against Stiles’ neck, nuzzling into the space as much as he could. Stiles smiled against the smaller boy. He picked him and Boyd up and fell back against the bed. The three small children curled up against him.

Boyd sighed contently, “Tell us a story.”

Stiles smiled, “About what?”

“About the handsome King Derek,” Erica grinned, “And how he saved us all.”

Boyd made a chocking sound, “Boring. How about the King’s great-grandpa being a wolf?”

Erica smiled, reaching for Boyd’s hand and squeezing it tightly, “Good idea!”

Stiles grinned and began to tell the legend of the black beast and the first Hale. He stroked Isaac’s head as he told the story, his eyes watching all three children as they fell asleep against him. He fell asleep himself. After sleeping and crying all day, his body kept him from falling into a deep sleep. He was awoken but drowsy when the sun was just about to rise, the room still gray from the night before.

A figure loomed above Stiles, hands reaching to rub across his forehead. Stiles knew he should have been frightened but he couldn’t bring himself to feel that way. He turned into the hand, humming contently when the fingers scratched the scalp. He fell back to sleep with the hand in his hair and the heat of a body against his own.

---

Stiles slept through most of the day. Isaac was the one to wake him up shortly passed the lunch hour. The small boy was dressed in royal clothing, his large eyes filled with excitement, “I have my own room.”

Stiles smiled, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Isaac grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him down the hall, “The king gave each of us a room. Mine looks like the forest. Boyd’s look like the sea and Erica’s looks like the sky.”

Isaac showed Stiles each room, showing his own last. Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the way the boy showed every book and toy that laid around inside. They spent most of the day in each respective room, Stiles reading the books to each child and eating in between books.

When the sun was setting, Stiles tucked each one into bed, kissed each child on the forehead, and walked the lonely path back to his bedroom. He was a mess of confusing emotions. The King hadn’t visited him in several days, not since the fiasco that was Stiles’ first sexual experience. Stiles still walked the halls with his head attached to his neck and the three children had even been adopted by Derek.

What did this all mean?

He felt a headache coming on when he finally entered his room. The place had been cleaned bare, rugs and pillows lifted from the bed and taken somewhere else. The bathroom just beyond Stiles’ vision had looked empty as well, no lotions or perfumes cluttering the counters and the floor. The only thing left in tact was the bed, still filled with silk sheets and thick comforters. And King Derek lying in the center.

Stiles gulped audibly. Perhaps this was it. His last day. Derek would shower him in everything he ever wanted, the orphans safe and taken care of, his friends happy, and then kill him. Stiles raised his head high, closed the door behind him and marched across the space to the bed.

Derek watched every motion like a predator ready to pounce, his eyes focused on Stiles. When Stiles reached the edge of the bed he puffed up his chest, filling it with false bravado and grinning, “Well, if you’re going to do kill me. Make it fast, I don’t like pain. But let’s do the sex thing first. I don’t want to die a virgin, even if I have to sleep with you to accomplish that.”

Derek looked away, eyes suddenly sparkling with something, “I don’t sleep with boys.”

“Boys?” Stiles growled, “You seemed pretty eager that first night. And then what about last week? I said ‘no’, buddy, but you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek rose to a sitting position, body tense. He looked angry, nearly violent and Stiles wondered if he even wanted to have sex at all. Derek didn’t look like he’d be gentle right now.

“No,” Stiles pouted, “I’m not going to be quiet because you’re going to sex me up then slit my throat. Me talking is your punishment, pal. I’m going to keep talking. I’ll say dirty, sexy things like ‘oh, harder, Derek’ and then I’ll laugh at the size of your dick and I’ll scream when you make me cum and then I’m going to cry when you slit my throat. And that’s your punishment for being selfish.”

Derek was in Stiles face now, both of their chest heaving against each other. Derek was shaking, holding back what was most likely the urge to kill Stiles while Stiles tried to get the air back in his lungs.

Stiles tried to fight the tears that burned against his eyes and he rubbed at them to stop them from falling. He continued his rant as if Derek had never stepped into his personal space, “It’s not fair. I’m going to die and you’re going to be alone. You’ll be alone forever and I’ll be dead. And you’re so selfish, giving me everything I could have want and taking it all away like this.”

Derek took Stiles’ face in his hands, grasping his cheeks tightly. He rubbed a thumb across the cheekbone, wiping a tear from Stiles’ eyes. Derek pulled his face forward, meeting halfway in between and kissing Stiles gently. It was a soft meeting of the lips, a press against each other but it shocked Stiles all the way down to his toes. When he pressed against Derek a little harder, warmth began flowing back up, stopping at his lower belly and curling up in intense pleasure. He whimpered against Derek’s mouth, hands moving to his wrist for purchase.

Derek moved away before it could deepen but he did not let go of Stiles, “You were crying the last time.”

Stiles smiled stupidly, “I was crying because you were going to kill me. And I wasn’t ready to leave you yet.”

Derek smiled too, “I wasn’t ready to get rid of you yet.”

“So there may be a future point when you’ll want to get rid of me?” Stiles tried to pull back but Derek would not let him. He pulled Stiles closer, wrapping his large arms around the boy’s waist. He kissed him again, this time harder, needier and with an added nip to the lower lip.

When Derek pulled away he growled, “Never. For all of eternity, you’re stuck with me.”

Stiles smiled, pressing right up against Derek and hugging him tightly. Stiles kissed the lower jaw, right by Derek’s ear, soundly and with a wet emphasis, “Good. I do have a question, is you’re family really descendants from wolves?”

“Maybe.” Derek muttered, hands falling to Stiles’ ass and gripping tightly. Stiles’ hips responded by humping against Derek’s own hardening dick, “My mother and sister could change into a wolf and I have some of wolf-like characteristics.”

Stiles nodded against Derek, revealing in the friction his cock had against Derek’s, “Does the mean you can knot?”

Derek took Stiles’ whole ass in his two hands, forcing the boy to wrap his wiry legs around his waist. Stiles whimpered when the new position caused more sparks of pleasure. Derek chuckled, moving them to the bed, Stiles pressed against the mattress and Derek’s solid frame. The wolf nuzzled his cheek and pulled Stiles into another passionate kiss. When Derek pulled away he chuckled, “You’ll just have to see.”

Stiles gulped audibly.