Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles likes to think he’s a perfectly normal teen, although he knows others see him as anything but. He thinks he is. He has to be, right?

Take tonight, for example. His dad has the night shift. Stiles is tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep, when he hears a soft rustling outside his window. It’s followed almost immediately by the swift, near-silent click of the latch and the window sliding open. He keeps his bedroom window carefully oiled for reasons that, right now, make terrifyingly little sense.

Stiles stays absolutely still, holding his breath. Then, the mattress dips deeply, and a soft rumble starts to sound. A warm, heavy body is crawling over him, and instead of screaming or scrambling away, he remains utterly frozen.

This might not be considered normal. Maybe? Probably?

But the thing is, there is a full moon tonight, and he’s been able to track the intruder since the first faint rustle outside. The perfect, gorgeous face currently looming over him belongs to Derek freaking Hale.

Who is Derek Hale? Only the most beautiful young man in town. Stiles has had lustful, secret dreams about him as much as he had about Lydia Martin for the last couple of years.

And this feels exactly like a dream, yet entirely real. It’s confusing and weird, but he is not scared. If anything he’s thrilled, excited, and utterly intrigued.

Maybe it’s because no one has ever, ever looked at him the way Derek is right now, dark, intense, and focused only on him.

The most crazy thing, though, is that the young man seems wild, his electric-blue eyes glowing, a hint of fangs, messy hair, and absolutely no shirt.

The lack of a shirt might be another reason why he isn't panicking. How can he panic when he's busy staring at those sculpted abs? He can see all of it thanks to the cold, silver light of the full moon that bathes his assailant, giving him an almost supernatural, haunting glow.

Then, Derek dips his face to his neck, a hot, wet tongue licking a searing path from his collarbone to the edge of his jaw, and Stiles’s brain short circuits.

Derek's chest rumbles again, and Stiles’s arms move on their own, surging forward to touch that perfect chest and solid abs, his legs opening up instinctively to make room for the heavy body. It feels glorious. Stiles pants and moans while Derek growls and rumbles, humping against him, their hard cocks rubbing against the friction of fabric, until Derek bites his neck with sharp, undeniable sharp teeth -yeah, those are fangs, definitely fangs- and Stiles comes, a frantic, explosive wave right there in his pants like the virgin seventeen year old boy he is.

So, yeah, he considers himself normal. Because when the demigod, Derek Hale, whose body was sculpted by the goddesses themselves, crawls through your window at night, that is a perfectly normal response to all of this.

The following hours are full of completely normal responses. For example, after making Stiles come, Derek's teeth release the skin he was biting, he gives a few glorious, soothing licks to ease the pain, and then he sits up, his knees opening Stiles’s legs even more. Then he uses very real, long claws -those fingernails are not human- to rip Stiles's clothes (shirt, pants, and boxers) into small, useless shreds. The young man looks at his handiwork with a palpable awe in his glowing blue eyes, as if Stiles's naked body holds the utmost beauty and deserves to be worshipped.

Again, no one ever looked at Stiles like that. No one ever tried to touch or lick or stared at him with such raw, focused intensity at all.

Slowly, Derek lowers his body, hovering over Stiles’s pale skin, breathing him in with loud intakes and explosive exhales. It reminds Stiles of a dog marking its territory. Maybe this is where he’s acting a bit out of the ordinary, getting turned on by such an odd, primal behavior.

But it’s Derek freaking Hale, and he’s still high from his orgasm.

Next Derek is trailing his nose and kissing across Stiles's collarbone, his chest, his ribs, his stomach… oh, god. The moment Derek gets to the wet spot on his navel and starts to lick Stiles’s cum he can't help but moan loudly feeling his dick stirring, half hard.

But the young, slightly supernatural man doesn't stop there. Derek keeps licking his way down toward that dick, and Stiles screams in pure pleasure. This is the most realistic dream he has ever had, and he'll kill someone if he wakes up now. Seriously. Kill them to death.

Derek starts to suck him off, fangs nowhere to be felt, only the hot, safe cavern of his perfect mouth. It doesn't take much for Stiles to harden and come again, this time deep inside of Derek. 

Yep, there is nothing left in his brain but Derek, sex, and skin.

He wants to reciprocate, but his body has turned to mush and his limbs splayed for Derek to do as he wants. Said man keeps licking down his balls, sucking, and -oh, fuck- that is his asshole being probed by the man’s magic tongue.

He lets Derek turn him over because, come on! If he gets two orgasms by just licking and sucking, he can't wait to be fucked.

Without missing a second, Derek parts his ass cheeks with blunt human fingernails. No claws that Stiles can see from where he twists his neck on the mattress and starts to rim him.

Derek Hale is rimming him. Fucking his hole with his tongue, and God, it feels like Stiles was made for this moment.

To be fair, he has stretched himself on a few occasions during the last month, discovering the beauty of prostatic massage while masturbating. But this is another level. Hell, this is a different dimension altogether.

Derek takes his sweet time, and Stiles is shocked to discover he is getting hard again.

Then the man tries to push his thumb in, and it is still too dry. Stiles moves his hand without needing to look, searching blindly for his personal bottle of lube under his pillow where he left it last night. Good job, past Stiles.

He squeezes lube blindly over his hole and luckily, Derek catches most of it with his fingers. The young man opens Stiles up quickly, one finger next to a second one. Before he can catch his breath, there is a third, and yeah, maybe Stiles is not quite so normal, because he's not unhappy about the burn and pain. He's excited only thinking about Derek's dick inside of him, taking his v-card.

Okay, no, he knows this part is not normal, and the pain is making him realize this is also not really a dream. But fuck it if he cares!

“Derek, that’s enough. I’m ready, please.” He forms coherent words for the first time tonight and freaking begs. His voice is breathy and shaky, and he is not ashamed in the slightest. He is getting laid tonight.

The young man emits a low growl that feels like a sound of pure pride, as if Stiles’s raw eagerness makes him realize he made an excellent choice by breaking and entering this particular bedroom tonight.

Damn, maybe this is something Derek Hale does every night. But Stiles doesn't care, because tonight, he is in his bed.

His.

“Mine,” he whispers, and Derek responds by using his heavy body to cover Stiles entirely. Fangs dip again into his neck, his dick thrusts into his hot, tight hole, and a satisfied growl follows with an answering “Mine,” words vibrating in return. It's heavenly perfect.

Derek fucks him long and hard, and Stiles loves every pleasurable second of it. When Derek cums, he does it with a roar that makes Stiles’s body and the very walls shake. He pours his warm seed deep inside Stiles which triggers his own orgasm. It´s explosive and Stiles smiles before he passes out, heavy and sated.

-.-

He is jolted awake by the insistent sound of his phone. “Hello?”

“Stiles? Are you okay?” The frantic voice of his dad immediately clears the fog from his mind.

“What? Dad. Yeah. Just waking up.”

He looks around and needs to turn on the lights because it´s still too early. Nothing seems changed but he glances down at his body, and yep, that is dried cum on his stomach. He stands up and feels a warm, sticky drop slide down his inner thigh.

Oh, my god, that is… Yep. Real.

He hurries toward the bathroom while his dad tells him there's a man at the station who came to turn himself in. Stiles half listens to the story as he catches his reflection.

Good god.

He has marks on his neck. Bite Marks. Both sides. Real.

A slow, giddy smile starts to spread across his face when the story his dad is telling over the phone makes him halt completely.

“What?”

“Apparently, someone walked into the station to turn themselves in. When the deputy asked for what, all he said was to ask the Sheriff’s kid.”

The words make his heart clench, his brain jump starting and coming with awful conclusions. “Dad. I’ll be there in ten.” He manages to croak before hanging up

-.-

Think, think.

First, he rips the sheets off his bed and the shedded clothes to dispose of the evidence, then he changes. He pulls his flannel shirt over his tee but buttons it right up to the collar to hide the marks. He loves them already, but if this is what he thinks it is, they’ll only make things worse. 

Only then he scrambles to the station, jumps from his jeep, bolts past Tessa at the front desk and asks for his dad, but the Sheriff is already raising a hand to stop him.

“Dad, where is he?”

His dad looks at him up and down before answering. “His lawyer just arrived.”

“What?” Stiles, knowing he was probably breaking every rule known to man, shoves the interrogation room door open without knocking. Yep. There he is, Derek Hale cuffed to the table. “Why is he handcuffed?!”

His dad is tailing behind him. “He threatened you.”

“My client-” Some woman starts to say.

“Shouldn't even be here!” Stiles turns to his father. “Dad, I’m fine. It’s just a misunderstanding.” He interrupts the good-looking woman who is standing next to Derek, her hand clamped firmly on his shoulder. Stiles immediately wants to slap her hand away.

“Stiles.” his dad warns.

“Dad, I’ll explain once I know what’s going on, okay? But please tell me you haven't pressed charges yet.” He sees the struggle in his dad's eyes, but he also knows his dad would never arrest an innocent man on purpose.

After a short staring contest, the Sheriff walks away defeated. Stiles whirls around and pulls out the chair directly across from Derek. The lawyer is frowning, utterly confused, and Stiles notices the striking, familial similarities between the woman and Derek. Oh. He knew about all the Hales, even if he wasn't interested in them -not like he was interested in Derek.

“Derek,” he keeps his voice soft yet firm. “Why are you here?”

Derek looks up, startled for a moment, but guilt flashes in his eyes before he quickly averts them. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles huffs, getting frustrated and annoyed. “What for? Letting me wake up alone?”

Derek stares at him with wide, shocked eyes. “For... raping you.”

Stiles gasps. “What?” He flails his arms around. “Okay, no, hold on.” This was worse than he imagined. “Listen, okay. Breaking and entering? Not cool. But did I, at any point, tell you to stop? If I remember correctly, I freaking encouraged you.” He flashes a glance toward the woman, feeling his cheeks flare red. “The sharp fangs and claws were a little worrying for a moment, but you never hurt me. Fuck, this is not the place I thought we’d have this conversation.” He rubs his face with both hands, trying to shake off the sheer embarrassment. “Can we go now? You kind of owe me breakfast.”

Derek keeps staring at him, tilting his head at one point, which reminds Stiles of a dog again.

The woman -Laura Hale, as she introduces herself in a hurried blur- takes Derek out of there the moment Stiles stands up.

To say his dad is furious is an understatement. He slams the still not filled documents onto the desk. “Stiles, you cannot seriously expect me to be okay with letting him walk after he admitted to threatening you!”

“Dad, look,” Stiles says, moving quickly to put a hand on his father's arm, his voice dropping into his most sincere tone. “I know how this looks, but I assure you, there was no threat whatsoever. I need to talk to them to understand why he thought otherwise, but right now I don't have the answers you need. Please, you know his family, he's only twenty-one years old. He's never done anything bad. Please, please, please Dad, let him go. You can’t hold him based on a crime I’m actively denying. Legally, you know that.”

After his dad reluctantly stands down, Stiles goes after them. Laura tells him sharply to meet them at Ruby’s. They jump into a sleek, sweet looking Camaro, and Stiles follows in his Jeep, his dad glaring after them from the double doors of the station.

-.-

Stiles finally unbuttons the flannel, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a passing window. Fuck, they are beautiful. Derek wanted him so much last night he marked him. And that thought just made him blush, especially with how okay with the idea of it happening again he was.

He gets to Ruby's and goes straight to the booth where the Hale siblings are seated. Luckily, Laura is across from Derek, so Stiles can slide into the spot right next to him. Derek freezes immediately, but Stiles takes it in stride. He understands now; all he needs to do is make Derek understand just how much last night meant to him.

Laura clears her throat. The waitress is there, staring at Stiles's neck, a curl in her red lips.

“Must have hurt,” she teases.

Stiles makes a quick, swift glance at her, smirking back. “Probably less than all that ink. And way more fun.”

She cackles but regains her composure quickly when Laura glares at her.

“Two coffees and… Stiles?”

He nods. “Coffee and pancakes.”

The moment the waitress is out of earshot, Laura turns toward him with a serious brow. “You must have questions.”

“Yes, a lot.” But he doesn't need any answers from her, so he twists on the booth to face Derek. “But mainly, do you do that often?”

Derek stares back with wide eyes. “No, of course not. Last night-” he stops short, as if looking for the words, and Stiles thinks he might be the quiet type. That’s okay; Stiles can speak for both of them. “Was a first.”

The words loose something inside Stiles, and he feels his shoulders relax. He was more tense than he thought. “Do you plan on doing it again?” The implied 'to someone else, with someone else' is left unsaid. Derek shakes his head, horrified by the question. Stiles feels his lips stretching into a small, victorious smile. “Good. I don't like sharing.”

“Excuse me? Don’t you have some other questions?” Laura looks just as surprised as her brother.

Stiles is smart, hell of smart. He knows Beacon Hills is not a place for normal people. So he gets what she’s asking.

“Not really. I go to school with Cora Hale and her pack,” he thinks, but doesn't say, of leather-clawed assholes.

Laura's surprise doesn't waver. Stiles has always been too much for some people. The waitress arrives with their coffee and Stiles’s pancakes.

“Thanks, Rose.” He digs in immediately. He had a rough night that left he´ll treasure for the rest of his life. He is famished.

“How do you know my name?” she asks.

Stiles chews the sweet, fluffy pancakes while gazing around. The Hales and Rose are staring back, a mix of incredulity, suspiciousness, and intrigue.

“I came here a few days back, and Lili was talking about her cousin in college. Your uniform doesn't quite fit, and the tag says Lili. I assume you are the cousin she was talking about. Besides, most of your tattoos are roses, and Lili mentioned most of the girls in her family have names of flowers.”

Rose smiles, pleased. “You can call me Rosie.”

Stiles blushes; most people don't like the way he tends to over analyze.

The moment the waitress leaves, Laura starts asking questions about Stiles’s tendencies to go around in the Preserve. Which makes him wonder.

“How do you know?” He asks.

Laura flashes her eyes, but Stiles is not surprised in the slightest at the golden orbs. Cora and her friends share that trait. His lack of reaction makes Derek uneasy and Laura a bit frustrated.

“We caught your scent.”

“Um…” So, taking into account all he knows about Cora Hale and the fact last night was a full moon, it's no surprise Stiles says next, “Turn to page 394.”

Laura huffs, but it is Derek who talks. “This is not a movie.”

Stiles keeps devouring his pancakes with a smirk while Laura explains Derek came by his scent and that triggered last night's events.

“What do you mean? He somehow was under the spell of my scent? Was he high on full moon light or something?”

“Or something.”

Stiles puts his empty cup on the table. Of course. The only reason someone, anyone, wanted him was because they were under the influence of something.

He turns to Derek again. “You know, walking up to my dad panicking on the phone didn't leave me with too much time to think things through. However, it doesn't make sense that you ran toward the Sheriff's Station before 6 AM. I thought you felt guilty, but it’s something else, isn’t it?” Derek clenches his fists on the table, gaze locked on them.

Of course there is something more. He had sugar and coffee; he is awake enough to finally think about it, and his heart sinks with the realization.

Regret.

Derek woke up, took one look at Stiles, and regretted everything.

He starts to shake, pain shearing through his chest, dark thoughts plaguing his mind.

“Of course you regret it,” he huffs, trying to hold in the tears. “Listen, I’m not going to say a word. Of anything. I'm the one who took advantage last night.” Derek startles. “You obviously would have never chosen me. I get it now. Thanks for the breakfast.”

He quickly buttons his flannel back up to hide his bite marks while he hurries out of the diner. It fucking hurts to be unwanted.

Derek grabs his arm in the parking lot. “I woke up in a teenager’s bedroom. Of course I regret it,” he growls at Stiles.

“You know what? I could have screamed last night. I could have told my dad everything today and put you away, as you seem to be wanting. I could have accused you, told everyone who can hear how you and your family are anything but human.”

Derek releases his arm with wide eyes and recoils at Stiles’s hissing voice. “But I didn't. Do you know what I regret? This morning. Waking up alone after having sex for the first time. Having to hurry toward the Sheriff’s station to bail you out of whatever guilt trip you put yourself in. Instead of walking me up to talk, like the fucking adult you think you are. I may be seventeen, but at least I know a conversation could have saved us all of this shitshow.”

Stiles jumps inside the Jeep while words keep flowing. “Stop hiding behind excuses, just fucking tell me you regret choosing me. Being with me.”

He leaves, feeling like shit, trying to reconcile the Derek that worshiped his body last night and the one that couldn't hold his gaze today.

-.-

When his dad finally gets home, shortly after Stiles does, he awaits answers Stiles is not ready to give.

“The night shift was calm until this morning’s disaster. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Dad, I'm not sure myself. Derek, he… um…” Stiles walks around the kitchen, hands shaking. “So, here is the thing. I might not be as straight as I once thought.” His dad raises a slow brow and waits. “Last night, I might have taken advantage of Derek not being fully… um, sober. He realized I’m seventeen and decided all on his own that he forced me to do something I wasn't interested in, when it was actually the opposite. But don’t worry, we talked, and well… he’s definitely not interested.”

His dad's face cycles through stages of shock, anger, and finally, resignation before he pulls Stiles into a tight hug. “I'm sorry, son.”

Stiles hugs him back, a lump in his throat. “I still can't believe he thought... I mean, I know I’m underage for a few more months, but still.”

His dad kept holding him in silence, probably fighting the urge to hunt Derek down.

They both went to bed shortly after, and Stiles might have cried himself to sleep, trying to make the voice inside his head to shut up. The voice that reminds him how annoying and unlovable he was.

-.-

Near five p.m., Stiles and his dad ate an improvised lunch/dinner together, the older man promising to take Stiles out once he gets a chance.

Stiles smiles a little. “Dad, don´t worry about it.”

“Of course I worry, kiddo. You keep growing up when I´m not looking and I don´t ever want you to feel like you can´t tell me things.”

They hug goodbye before his dad leaves for his night shift. 

Stiles stays, cleaning the dishes, when a few minutes later, a knock sounds on the door.

When he answers he can't believe his eyes, because there is no way that Derek Hale is standing there, holding a container of ice cream.

“Can I come in?” the young man says, holding Stiles' gaze.

Stiles is too stunned to answer right away, he thought he'd never see him again, but once he finds his voice he can´t help but snap. “I don't know, are you going to end up in the Sheriff’s station again?”

Derek has the decency to look deeply ashamed. “I am really sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles stays quiet, squashing every bitter ounce of unfounded hope he could feel. Derek wasn’t here because he wanted to be with Stiles again, he never did in the first place.

“Can we talk?” Derek finally asks, and Stiles with a heavy sigh, lets him in.

-.-

Stiles and Derek sit down in the living room, with ample space between them. Derek brought Mint Chocolate Chip which is Stiles's favorite -how did Derek guess?- but they leave the container unopened on the coffee table, a physical barrier between them.

Derek takes his time, but slowly starts to tell him about being a born wolf and how his kind has been hunted for centuries just for being different. Stiles listens with rapt attention, already planning on researching about it late, there must be some safe, encrypted corner of the internet to get real information from, right?

“As I said, I'm not planning on saying anything, Derek. Your sister is a lawyer; I can sign a NDA if needed.” He didn't know if those applied to werewolf secrets, but he was determined to prove he didn't care about that.

Derek looks intently at him. “That is not the reason I’m telling you this. We, werewolves -especially born ones- have heightened senses. My sense of hearing allows me to hear the truth in your heartbeat. I know you won't say anything.”

Stiles is surprised and excited by the possibility of Derek and everyone like him being a walking, talking lie detector. That is so freaking cool.

“But then, why?” He narrows his eyes, trying to find a pattern, but without much information, it’s hard to see one. “Why are you here telling me all of this?”

Derek takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before continuing. “During the full moon, my senses are even more heightened, and when I cross paths with your scent…” He closes his eyes, but Stiles sees they flash electric blue. “You smell so good to me, Stiles. I couldn't help myself. I had to find you.”

What? This was starting to feel like an emotional rollercoaster, one he was strapped in against his will. Derek made no sense.

“I tracked you down just to see who you were…” He opens his eyes and they are his normal hazel-green color. “but then you were awake, and instead of afraid, your smelled interested.”

Stiles blushes red and Derek covers his face with both hands at the sight, elbows resting on his thighs. He stayed there for a minute taking deep breaths, and Stiles bit his tongue, heart stammering in his chest, he couldn't talk yet, needed to hear the rest.

“The scent of your arousal was so strong, I couldn't stop. I didn't even ask your name, or your age.” He finally takes his hands away, and he looks wrecked. “When I woke up a few hours later next to you, my first instinct was to take care of you. I wanted to feed you, wash you, but you were sleeping so soundly.” Derek stood up and started to pace around the room. “I ended up looking around your room, and that's how I discovered you go to high school.”

He looked angry and disgusted. “A few years back, when I was fifteen, a huntress came to town. She infiltrated the school as a substitute teacher, and…” He stopped his pacing to look at Stiles, as if he needed to make a point. “I fell for her lies and told her important information about my family.”

It all clicks so fast. “The fire,” Stiles mumbled. He could see it now, why his dad couldn't break the case because he didn't have all the pieces. “She groomed you and took advantage.”

“And I swore to never be like her,” Derek spat in rage.

And Stiles finally sees it. That anger is not meant for him, but for Derek himself. He hates himself because he thinks he manipulated Stiles in some weird way. It would be comical, if it wasn't so tragic.

The ice cream is melting on the coffee table, but Stiles can't spare a thought for it yet. He needs to solve this, find a way to make Derek see Stiles was a willing participant. But how could he do that without outing himself like the freak he was? Because, let's face it, Stiles was anything but normal.

Derek starts to pace around again, looking like a criminal awaiting judgment, and fuck it, if this is the only way, then Stiles needs to be honest.

“You like iced lattes,” Stiles says from his spot on the couch. “You run almost every day early in the mornings. You read non-stop, and sometimes, if a book is good enough, you reread it again without delay.”

Derek freezes and stares at him, confused.

“That jacket you are wearing is your favorite item of clothing. You use it as an armor, even during summer.” Stiles stands up, and Derek looks almost scared. “I love to see you during winter because your sweaters are ridiculous, you always choose the spot away from the heater when you sit at Ruby’s, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, I get to see you when you pick up Cora from school.”

Stiles stands directly in front of Derek. “I know you, Derek Hale, even if you had no idea what my name was before today. I have always liked you, and that’s why when I saw you at my window I wasn't afraid.” He places both hands on Derek’s cheeks. “I wanted it so bad, I didn't stop to think about the whys or whatnots. And even after all of it, I don't regret one bit.” 

He lets his words sink in before adding, “You are nothing like her. If anyone took advantage last night it was me.” He lets go of Derek and steps back. “I’m not good, by any means. I'm selfish, I already told you I don’t like to share. I only care for a very short list of people and no one else. I’m manipulative and have stalking tendencies. No one can judge you if you never talk to me again, Derek. But don't, for a moment, dare to say it's because you are not good. Because between you and me, you are nothing but a victim, while I am nothing if not an opportunist."

Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling exposed. “So you can stop apologizing. You chose wrong once, years ago. Last night though, you chose me. And you don’t have to regret that, cuz I don't want you to.”

Derek looks shattered, and for a moment, Stiles thinks, This is it. I finally scared him away. But then the wolf is moving closer, placing one hand possessively on his cheek and kissing him.

Stiles wastes no time answering the kiss, his hands placing possessively over Derek's back and waist grasping at the jacket tightly.

Their kiss is long and desperate, until Stiles's knees give out and he needs to take a moment to breathe. Derek holds him up, easily displaying his strength and making Stiles desire him even more.

“You smell so good, Stiles.” Derek’s voice is more animalistic, almost as it was last night.

“Then don’t stop smelling me. Don’t leave so far apart that you can’t get my scent. Stay here with me tonight, tomorrow, every night.” He pants against Derek’s neck and hopes he decides to stay.

However, Derek is shaking his head. “Please, Stiles. Can we wait until you’re eighteen?” He almost whimpers, defeated and Stiles’s heart shatters a little.

Two months. His birthday is in two months: April 8th. “Okay, yeah, we can so that.” He kisses Derek once more, before parting with a smirk. “so, what do we do till then?”

Derek growls softly and Stiles sees the struggle, his eyes flashing, and a hint of fang appearing. “I want to do this right.”

Stiles smiles softer now, Derek is so good. “Then date me. Take me out to lunch, dinner and breakfast. Let’s go to the movies. Tell me all the things I don't know about you, just yet.” He steps away, but takes Derek’s hand and sits him down on the couch with him. “We can start now, with ice cream and a movie. What do you say?”

Stiles doesn't need a verbal answer, the look of awe and surrender that Derek gives him is enough. He will take care of Derek, Stiles is going to be so good to him, he will infiltrate his life so deeply that the wolf won´t be able to resist him. Two months. He can work with that. He can make Derek Hale fall in love with him in that time, it is a plan.

Chapter Text

During the following two months Stiles talks to his dad, his bro Scott and his friends Heather. He tells them he is definitely not straight and how for some inexplicable reason he got Derek freaking Hale, the man of his dreams, to like him back. Even if not remotely as much as he wants. 

His dad is reluctant but supportive and his friends are surprised but share his excitement. 

During the first week after the talk, he is introduced to Cora and the pack at school, they don't seem to understand what's so great about Stiles yet, but it doesn't matter because Derek likes him! Scott and Isaac click, just like Heather and Erica. Their groups merge into one nice unit, and Stiles can now gather information about his future husband freely and easily.

Oh, yes, Stiles is planning to marry the shit out of Derek, there is no way he is gonna lose the chance to be forever with this man, that is turning quickly into the love of his life. He mentions this at home, repeatedly, until his dad starts to warm up to the idea. 

Eventually, the Sheriff decides to invite Talia and Samuel Hale to his home to talk. The couple is very supportive of his son dating Stiles, confirming this is just as serious to the young man, and the Sheriff seems to be more at ease afterward, as if the parental conversation was what he needed to believe that Derek wasn't playing with his kid.

While Stiles counted the days until his birthday, he and Derek got to know each other more. Stiles started buying scentless shampoo and soap, and stopped using cologne entirely which made the wolf happy, since Derek was utterly obsessed with his natural scent and could spend hours licking Stiles’s skin which was insanely hot. 

One evening, while they were out Derek gives Stiles his jacket, then Stiles lends him a shirt to take home and little by little they start exchanging clothes. The wolf is visibly pleased by this and Stiles finds comfort in wearing one of Derek's Heanleys to sleep. Every shared shirt, every borrowed jacket, was a tiny thread, binding the wolf closer. It was an investment. A deliberate, hopeful step in his master plan to make Derek absolutely, irrevocably head over heels for him.

-.- 

Stiles is alone in his room when the clock on his laptop glows 12:01 a.m. His dad is on the night shift again, which means he has the house for himself and he is only wearing Derek's gray Henley in bed.

Just like that first night, a soft rustling sounds outside his window, followed by the familiar, near-silent slide of the sash and Derek comes in with his eyes bright electric blue.

Stiles isn´t waiting anymore, he is on his feet and already shucking off the shirt. Derek covers the distance between the window and the bed in two long strides to wrap his arms around Stiles and they meet in a heated kiss.

The kiss is a collision that tastes of two months of yearning, of shared secrets, and the overwhelming need to feel each other's skin again. Stiles yanks at Derek's jacket, pulling the armor off until it hits the floor, followed by the shirt. The wolf responds by lifting Stiles off the ground, backing him up until the small of his back hits the cold wall.

The bed is the goal, but they lost all patience. Derek's mouth leaves Stiles's trailing a hot, wet path down his jaw and across his throat, lingering where the bite marks have faded but the memory remains. This time, Stiles doesn't freeze, he is moving his hands frantically to open the fly of Derek's jeans. Finally the last two items of clothes are removed and they are both naked,skin against warm skin.

Derek’s eyes are still glowing, while he kneels before Stiles, his large hands parting Stiles’s eager legs. A raw growl escapes him when his fingers probe Stiles' entrance and find that he is already slick with lube. 

“I couldn't wait” Stiles pants, his hips moving involuntarily when Derek pushes his finger in at the same time he swallows Stiles erect dick. “Oh, god, Derek. Your mouth feels so good.”

One finger is replaced by two, then three, quickly stretching and testing the path, making sure Stiles is ready to take him in. Simultaneously Derek sucks Stiles cock as if it's the best thing in the entire world. 

It´s too much and not enough at the same time.

“Derek, please, I need you. Inside. Now,” Stiles cries out, willing himself not to come just yet.

When Derek finally pushes his fingers away, he stands up and hauls the human easily off the floor. “Mine,” Derek growls, the word vibrating through Stiles's body as he pushes Stiles down onto the sheets.

Stiles opens his legs and Derek plunges into him, raw and overwhelming. The sensation of fullness and the heat  makes Stiles gasps and moan loudly. The sheer force of his feelings however fills his eyes with unshed tears because there is no pain or fear, only the glorious feeling of being completely and utterly taken, exactly as he had wanted for two long months. After tonight they won't have to hold back anymore.

As if reading his mind, Derek kisses Stiles awaiting lips. “I love you.” the wolf confesses while thrusting into Stiles´s welcoming hole. “I love you, so much.”

Stiles cums shortly after, his orgasm hitting him hard, makes his inner walls convulse and milk Derek until he cums, too. This time, there is no doubt, no guilt, and no early morning regret. Only noise, heat, and the electric blue light of a very happy wolf.

-.-

Stiles surfaces slowly from sleep, he is hard already and there is a warm weight pressing on his back.

“Derek,” he mumbles happily, his voice thick with sleep and desire. 

The arm around his waist tightens, before the hand trails down to caress his inner thighs. “Mm, that feels good.”

Eventually Derek takes his hard cock into his palm and starts to stroke up and down in a lazy rhythm.

Stiles leans into the sheets, lying on his stomach to enjoy the heavy presence against his back, his entire length pressed from shoulders to calves. He parts his ass cheeks to present his used hole to his wolf and Derek purrs in delight.

The wolf wastes no time in thrusting inside Stiles, using the cum that´s still there as lubricant. "You're so big, Der.” Stiles moans loudly, his hips moving to meet Derek's clock, sinking into a truly excruciating depth before pulling back languidly, giving Stiles a second to feel the delicious ache of emptiness before he is filled again.

A low, contented rumble starts in Derek's chest, vibrating against Stiles's spine. 

It starts slowly, the wolf kisses and nibbles at his human´s neck, claiming the span of skin as his territory.

“You´re gonna look so good with my mark, showing on your skin.” Derek´s voice sounds raspy and subtly altered by his fangs.

With those words hanging in the air, Stiles is hit with a renew need. “Harder, hard. Fuck me hard, bite me hard.” He begs, thoughts still scrambled, his brain not yet awake enough to process anything but need.

It's like a switch goes off, and the moment becomes frantic. Derek’s low rumble shifts into a ragged snarl. Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s soft hair, his knuckles digging into the scalp, as he tilts his head back to receive the promised bite on his exposed neck. The initial sharp sting blooming into a radiating, possessive warmth that sinks right into his bones. He lets his body go pliant, entirely surrendered to Derek’s body, who plunges into Stiles with a desperate, guttural sound, his hips ramming home with animalistic force, hitting his prostate over and over again.

Each deep stroke is a shock that steals his breath and drags a needy whine from his throat. The bedsprings creak an uneven rhythm beneath them. Stiles arches his back, digging his fingers in harder, begging the wolf not to stop. 

The friction is hot and slick, a burning pressure building in his core until the world narrows down to the heavy thud of Derek's hips against his own and the ragged gasps filling the space.

It doesn't take long. With one final, shuddering plunge that felt like he was being split open and remade, the wolf groans Stiles’s skin “Mine” and lets loose, cumming deep inside. 

The hot, thick pulse of his release is an overwhelming claim, a primal declaration that steals the last of Stiles’s control. He cums with a loud, strangled groan, his own cock spurting against the damp sheets.

For a long moment, the only sounds are their shuddering breaths and the rapid thump-thump of a shared, frantic heartbeat where Derek’s chest presses against his back. Derek stays buried deep, his soft tongue lapping over the tender skin of Stiles neck while the human revels at the sensation of deep, satisfying fullness. The weight on his back is reassuringly solid, a promise that his days are and nights are not going to be spent alone anymore.

“This is how I want to wake up everyday from now on.” He sights while Derek moves them away from the wet mess, holding Stiles into his chest.

“Anything you want, Stiles. I will give you everything.” The wolf swears into his skin until the sun, and the first ray of sunshine breaks through.

-.-

Stiles is awakened fully by the scent of coffee and frying bacon. His body is sore but it feels so good too, he skips clothes entirely and follows his nose. He stops in the bathroom first, before padding into the kitchen to find a naked Derek flipping pancakes with intense concentration.

“Morning,” Stiles mumbles, leaning against the doorframe.

Derek simply grunts “Morning” in response before turning off the stove. He deposits a plate stacked high with food and two mugs of coffee onto the small kitchen table. Before Stiles can take a seat, Derek catches him by the hips, pulling him until Stiles is seated firmly across Derek’s lap, thighs straddling his muscular legs.

Stiles' startle laugh fills the place and he enjoys the view of Derek's ears turning deep red.

“Eat,” Derek commands softly, picking up a fork.

It's absurdly domestic. Derek feeds him the pancakes while Stiles leans back against his broad chest, his hands resting naturally on Derek’s warm, solid shoulders. 

Stiles doesn't do it on purpose, but the whole thing starts to turn him on. He sees the way wolf's nostrils flare, picking up on his change of chemo signals. 

When the plate is finally empty, Derek lets the fork clatter softly onto the ceramic. His hands, which moments ago were gently guiding food, now seize Stiles’s hips with absolute possessiveness.

“You want me.” Derek growls, pleased. 

“I always want you.” Stiles replies and sees Derek´s eyes flash electric blue before he rises abruptly, keeping Stiles tightly anchored to his body. The table is cleared with a swift swipe of Derek's hand and Stiles is then gently laid back onto the cool, hard surface of the kitchen table, his knees hiking up to frame Derek’s waist.

The eager pressure of Derek’s erection is an explicit promise. Stiles is still slick from the early morning, and with a determined thrust, Derek reclaims the space inside Stiles.

The solid wood beneath Stiles's back, the cool air of the morning on his skin, and the overwhelming heat of Derek filling him create an exquisite sensory overload. The rhythm is urgent and demanding. Stiles grips the edge of the table, his knuckles white, shouting Derek’s name with every impact. 

The scent of coffee and syrup is quickly replaced by sweat and sex. Derek watches Stiles’s face, his eyes glowing blue with satisfaction and possession, until the force of his own climax sends a guttural roar echoing off the kitchen tiles, shaking Stiles’s body to a final, shattering finish.

Panting, Stiles slumps back into the table, feeling Derek press a hot, lingering kiss to his chest before gently lifting him up.

“We need a shower before your father comes back from his shift.” Derek murmurs, already moving up the stairs, carrying Stiles as if he wight nothing.

-.-

Stiles is running the hot water, steam quickly fogging the bathroom mirror, when the curtain is pulled back and Derek steps in.

Stiles turns his back to Derek and leans forward, bracing his hands against the tiled wall as the warm water streams over them both, washing the lingering slickness of their encounter down the drain.

Derek starts by running his hands over Stiles’s wet, trembling body, smoothing the soap across his shoulders and back. He runs his fingers through Stiles’s hair, gently washing away the sweat.

Then, Derek’s attention moves lower, his touch growing exquisitely slow and deliberate. He nudges Stiles's hips wider, his breath hot against the small of his back. The wet, possessive lick of his tongue starts at the base of Stiles’s spine and trails slowly downward, a searing line of heat and moisture amidst the rushing water.

Stiles gasps, the sound swallowed by the shower. He closes his eyes, biting back a moan, trusting Derek implicitly with this rawest form of intimacy. Derek is not just cleaning him; he is worshiping his body. His tongue is soft, seeking, and meticulously thorough, cleaning up Stiles hole with intense concentration. 

Stiles can only cling to the wall, his whole body shaking with arousal. He feels Derek’s lips and teeth gently claim the deepest part of him, confirming, without a single word, that every inch of Stiles is now Derek’s territory, pure and clean.

When Derek finally pulls away, he is breathing heavily, his eyes a dark, intense blue in the steam-filled room. He simply pulls Stiles back against his chest, holding him safe and secure beneath the falling water.

-.-

Shortly after getting off the shower, the sound of the front door opening signals the Sheriff’s return. The house is calm, the scent of fresh coffee, eggs and bacon invade the space.

Stiles and Derek, now both fully clothed, come down the stairs to sit at the kitchen table. Stiles feels a familiar surge of panic, would his dad be able to know what they were up to? but Derek simply squeezed his hand beneath the table.

When the Sheriff walks into the kitchen he takes one look at the two of them seated together and stops. He doesn’t need to ask. He doesn't want to know either.

“Derek made breakfast.” Stiles says quickly.

The three of them eat, the silence comfortable yet heavy with unspoken acknowledgment.

As they finish the last of the food, Derek turns to the Sheriff, his tone serious and respectful. “Sheriff, sir, I want to officially ask for your permission to date your son.”

Stiles flushes crimson red at the scene, but he forces himself to hold his head high, staring at his dad with determination.

After a few seconds, John Stilinski sighs, running a tired hand over his face. He knows fighting is useless and, after meeting Talia and Samuel he trusts the Hales' sense of honor, if not their common sense, so he nods in approval. 

“You´re a good man Derek, I trust you to take care of my son.”

Stiles hurries to stand up and turn around the table to hug his dad.

“Happy birthday kid.” He murmurs with a voice full of emotion.

“I love you, dad.”