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Stiles has been in love with Derek Hale since he was a kid. From the moment he first saw Derek swaggering into the police station, he had known that Derek was special. Magnificent. It was evident in every line of his body as he was perp-walked through the station in handcuffs. Derek had grinned and winked at the desk sergeant, completely unconcerned with the trouble he was in.When the deputies roughly pushed Derek down on the bench seat outside the sheriff's office, Derek had stretched his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed. Those bright hazel eyes were filled with a vitality Stiles had never seen before, not even as a youth.The thing that truly set Stiles' heart on fire was making eye contact with Derek. It had been brief; Stiles was twelve, working on his arithmetic worksheets, and Derek was older. Not too old, nowhere near as old as the deputies or the sheriff, but older than anyone Stiles was in middle school with.But somehow, in a room full of bustling deputies, Derek had seen him. Stiles' face had immediately flushed tomato red, but Derek didn't seem to notice or care. He jerked his chin in the way guys do when they're greeting each other, still grinning all devil-may-care, his midnight black hair tousled.And then the sheriff hauled Derek into his office, and Stiles went back to his homework. Heart pounding in his chest. But the moment was gone.On his sixteenth birthday, Stiles traded chaste, closed-mouth kisses that tasted of lip gloss with Lydia, and he felt nothing. It made no sense. She was gorgeous and smart and his, and all he wanted was to go home and play video games. Like a bolt from the blue, the memory of Derek Hale's piercing, pale gaze hit him, burning him up from the inside.He fucked her and thought of Derek Hale.Afterwards, on his walk of shame home, he passed by the local park. Rather, he tried to pass by but the drunken revelry happening had stopped him in his tracks. Derek and his friends were passing a bottle wrapped in a brown bag back and forth, hanging off the monkey bars, hooting and hollering like fools.It hit him again. That heart-pounding, stomach churning emotion. Gay, straight, bisexual: none of them mattered, only Derek with his trim waist, that bright smile. Those thick arms and legs. Again, almost like fate, Derek had met his eyes. And Derek had smirked and raised his beer bottle up, toasting him.A sick hunger, like theia mania, descended upon Stiles. He had stared, open-mouthed like a mouth-breathing creep, at Derek until a squad car pulled up to break up the party. Once again, Derek was hauled away in handcuffs, laughing. This time, he winked at Stiles before being shoved into the cop car.That hunger, once awoken, never faded away. It's been months and it's still an all-consuming thing, twisting and tangling in his guts every time he thinks of Derek. And he thinks about Derek nonstop: where Derek is, what he's doing, what he's drinking, who he's fucking. Because Derek must be fucking someone.Thinking about that too long makes Stiles insanely jealous. Crazy ex-girlfriend jealous, the way Lydia had been when he stopped answering her texts. The only remedy is information gathering. As the son of the sheriff, Stiles has access to a lot of private information that civvies don't have access to. Arrest records. Noise complaints. Derek's phone number and place of residence.The details of Derek's life spin around Stiles' mind, nonstop. During class. While he's jerking off in the shower. When he's doing homework at the station, waiting and yearning, glancing up at the doors every time they open, hoping that this time, it'll be Derek.But it doesn't happen. It makes sense, really. Derek is in his late twenties and being drunk in public isn't as charming at that age as it is at sixteen. Or maybe his rich, doting uncle stopped paying for bail and attorney fees. Either way, Stiles sees less and less of Derek.It's making him crazy. Certifiable. Before he knows it, he's hanging out around the garage where Derek works, hoping for a glimpse of the man. But it's not enough. It's not.All Stiles has to quell his obsession are brief impressions of Derek driving around town and buying groceries. And his fantasies, of course. Over the months, they've grown more elaborate. Loving scenarios that eventually turn hot and heavy. Long, winding storylines explaining how and why Derek falls in love with him. Sweet, almost gentle things.Until one night, Stiles is watching porn and ventures too far into the gay domination genre. Usually, it's white twinks getting fucked into the mattress by big burly dudes, but one video displays the exact opposite.A twink fucking a hunk. And not just fucking, dominating. His rational mind would call it rape, but it doesn't stop him from jerking off, cocking twitching in his hand, pre-come spitting out as he fucks his fist. Picturing him and Derek. Fucking. Derek unable to move - fight back - as Stiles rails him.Stiles comes silently, intensely, spunk squirting all over his hand and laptop.There is no shame in the aftermath. Only a quiet clarity.Years ago, Sheriff Stilinski had been prescribed sleep meds and refused to take them on principle. That orange bottle, filled to the brim, has been in the fridge ever since. Stiles had never cared to try them and didn't want the hassle of selling them so he left them alone. Now he sees a greater purpose for them.The sheriff would never approve of them being friends let alone them dating. Stiles is underage and Derek is the kind of guy that makes Sheriff Stilinski frown and shake his head before mumbling about how lawless and feral people are in this day and age.Those sleeping pills are his only option. Stiles watches as Derek putters around his kitchen, eating leftover chicken fajitas right out the Tupperware. It's a familiar sight. Watching Derek is his favourite past-time, way above kicking Scott's ass in video games. Seldom does Derek draw his curtains back, so he's clearly visible as he walks from room to room.Surprisingly, Derek is a creature of habit when he's not busy being drunk in public. He meal preps a lot, goes to bed at the same time, never misses a day of work. Repeat ad infinitum. It's a part of Derek's goal of becoming a functioning person in society, as ordained by his uncle.Stiles knows this because he was hiding in the closet while Derek talked to his rich uncle about it. No deviation in behaviour so there's less ways for Derek to slip up. No more hanging out with his friends, no more partying. Not until Derek can control himself. Otherwise no more inheritance and no more trust fund.Money as a cage to trap him, to dull his spark. It's infuriating. And it grates at Derek, too, it must, because he takes up smoking every morning. And not any ordinary pot, no, this strain is purple and foul smelling. Every time Derek takes a hit, he coughs and chokes, like the smoke is burning through his lungs and into the core of him.Where Stiles so longs to be.Once, a woman with long, dark brown hair showed up. She and Derek fucked, right there in the kitchen. Stiles had watched and watched, rage building up, making him shake. After she left, Stiles had snuck around to the front of the house and viciously keyed Derek's black sports car.After Derek called her, shouting and accusing her of vandalising his precious car, she never came back.But tonight Derek is alone and eating his leftovers like a good boy. Earlier, Stiles had crept inside and poured the crushed up sleeping pills inside the container. Not too much, he hadn't wanted it to be gritty and noticeable. That's why he carefully unscrewed the beer bottles inside the fridge and laced them as well. Screwing the caps back on had been a bitch and a half, but it was well worth it.Just thinking about what's going to happen makes Stiles' cock twitch. Getting this far was the result of months of careful prep, covert stalking, breaking and entering. Now, watching in quiet anticipation as Derek takes a swig of his beer, it's all about to pay off.The beer tastes off; Derek's face is all twisted up when he lowers the bottle. But he must have had a bad day at work because he shrugs and takes another drink. And then another and another. He even goes so far as to grab another bottle, drinking half of it in one swallow.Oh, it's going to be so good.Swaying, Derek leaves his dishes in the sink and wanders away. Stiles observes from his safe place in the bushes. A few moments later and the bathroom light clicks on.It's showtime.Stiles races across the yard, staying low. On the porch, there's an old, weather-worn ceramic wolf statue. Stiles picks it up and snags the key it was guarding. He unlocks the door and creeps inside, pausing by the sink to make sure the Tupperware container is empty. Sure enough, Derek ate all of the food and the crushed up sleeping pills.An excited giggle bubbles up. He slaps a hand over his mouth, keeping it inside, his body shaking with silent laughter. Derek should already be feeling the affects. He'll fall asleep fast and then stay asleep, until late afternoon if Stiles is lucky.Upsides, the sound of the shower turning on. Stiles grins at this, too. Derek is a seasoned drinker, but hot water makes alcohol and pills hit all the harder. All he needs to do is be patient and wait.In the darkened kitchen, Stiles hunches down. Waiting. The shower switches off. Derek pads across his upper floor, going from the bathroom to the bedroom. The sound of drawers opening, closing. Finally, the mattress squeaks as Derek climbs into bed, hopefully to pass out.Silence.Stiles waits in the dark. His cock is hard, tenting out from his sweatpants, but he doesn't do anything but press the heel of his palm against it, teasing. Taken with food, sleeping pills are less potent. The alcohol should balance that out, but only just. Patience is needed.So he waits. And waits. Listening, desperately straining his ears to pick up any unnatural sounds. But Derek doesn't shift or even turn over, not even when a train goes by, blowing its horn obnoxiously.He glances at the glowing numbers on the stove. It's time.The inside of Derek's house is now intimately familiar to Stiles. He's used Derek's giant TV, jerked off in his bed, eaten his food. Nothing is surprising as he creeps through the darkened home. On his way upstairs, he skips the seventh and fourteenth stair - they both creak when stepped on.The bedroom door is cracked open. Stiles peeks inside. The room is dimly lit by the moonlight, painting everything in shades of blue and black. In bed is Derek, flat on his back, snoring lightly. Stiles pauses a moment, waiting, then pushes the bedroom door open wider so he can slip inside.Derek doesn't move.Quickly, Stiles undresses. His hard cock sways between his legs as he kicks his sweatpants off. Already, pre-come is beading at the tip and his balls are drawn up. The preparations didn't stop at stalking and drugging Derek, no, Stiles also hasn't jerked off for two weeks. He wants to make this night special, wants to leave Derek coated in his come.Tossing the blankets aside, Stiles reveals Derek's body to the moonlight. He's wearing a white wifebeater and a pair of soft looking boxers. For a long moment, Stiles stares down at him, just drinking the sight in. Finally, after so many years of wanting, he's going to be with Derek.The boxers slide down Derek's legs easily. Stiles drops them to the floor absently, too intent on admiring Derek's dick to care. It's flaccid and uncut, resting on a bed of dark curly hair. Fearlessly, Stiles fondles it, teasing the foreskin, pulling it back to reveal his cockhead.Derek makes a soft, sleepy noise. Stiles freezes, his hand still on Derek's cock, feeling it pulse and throb. When Derek doesn't stir, he can't help but grin. The pills are in full affect, keeping Derek under. To test it, he squeezes Derek's balls, rolls them in his palm, tugging on them. Again, Derek makes a quiet noise but doesn't move.Stiles pushes up Derek's wifebeater, revealing his toned stomach. Hands shaking, he traces the ridges of those abs, dipping his finger into Derek's navel, before shoving the shirt up further, showing off Derek's chest. A thatch of dark hair is spread across his chest. Stiles runs his fingers through it, curling them, pulling on the hair.It's like being a kid in a candy shop. What to do first? Stiles squeezes one of Derek's nipples, twisting, pulling on it. He crawls onto the bed, straddling Derek's waist, so he can lean down and bite the other nipple. Derek makes a discomforted noise, but Stiles doesn't care. He switches his attention, twisting and squeezing the bite-swollen nipple so he can suckle the other.Pre-come leaks from his cockhead. Stiles thrusts, pushing his cock along Derek's happy trail, delighting in the scratchy feeling. He's not leaving until Derek is sticky with come."You know," Stiles says in a low voice, "I've always wanted you to blow me."As expected, Derek doesn't answer. Not that Stiles needs one. He shuffles up the bed until he's straddling Derek's broad chest before fisting his cock, stroking it. Another drop of pre-come drools out. With one hand clasped around the headboard, Stiles carefully traces Derek's lips with his cockhead, making them glisten in the dim light.With a grunt, he pushes his cock into Derek's slack mouth. Not the whole thing - he doesn't want to choke his lover - just the head to start. The inside of Derek's mouth hot and slick. Pleasure zips up and down his spine. But he takes it nice and slow, not rushing, just stroking the shaft while his cockhead rests on Derek's tongue. His hand bumps against Derek's mouth but that's okay. It's not like Derek notices, asleep like he is.Stiles pushes more of his cock in. It's utterly divine feeling that wet heat around him. Much better than Lydia's dry pussy. He pulls back and thrusts back into that divine slickness. Derek instinctively swallows, and Stiles can't help his reaction. He grabs Derek by the hair, adjusting the angle, and begins to fuck his mouth in earnest.The pills have worked their magic beautifully. Every muscle in Derek's body is relaxed, pliant, ready for Stiles to take advantage. And he does, fucking Derek's throat with no fear of triggering a gag reflex. His cockhead bangs into the back of Derek's mouth once, twice. Stiles yanks Derek's head further off the pillow and on the next thrust, his cockhead slides right down Derek's throat."Fuck, fuck." He holds Derek's head in place, nose pressed right against his stomach, as his cock jerks and his balls tighten. Stiles comes hard, gasping, fingers twisting in Derek's hair. Comes spurts down Derek's fluttering throat, coats the inside of his mouth. Stiles pulls out, jerking himself off like a madman, so the last jets hit Derek's beautiful face.It's perfect. Stiles rubs the tacky fluid across those angular cheekbones, along the sharp blade of his nose. Rubbing it into his beard. Unable to resist, needing to see, Stiles pulls Derek's mouth open. White fluid is still pooled on his tongue. To help it along, Stiles shoves two fingers inside, fucking them in and out, mixing the evidence of his adoration with Derek's saliva.Derek's throat works. He swallows around Stiles' fingers."We're connected now," Stiles tells him. "Even if you don't remember, your body will."Stiles slips his wet fingers out, dragging Derek's bottom lip down. Derek slumbers on, completely insensate. Well, not completely; Stiles glances back and grins when he sees that Derek's getting hard. It's more than he dared to dream of."I'm gonna make you feel so good," Stiles promises. He brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them in, eyes fluttering shut. Sucking cock isn't something he's done before but how difficult could it be?Carefully, he swings around, still straddling Derek's chest but facing the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he pulls Derek's mouth open so he can slip his cock back inside. Then he turns his attention to Derek's.Lying prone on top of his sleeping lover, Stiles nuzzles his cock, fondling it, mouthing at the shaft. He suckles on the head, swirling his tongue around, doing his best to mimic the moves he's seen in porn. Derek tries to make a sound and the vibrations around Stiles' cock make him moan. A feedback loop. Stiles raises his hips and lowers them, slowly pushing his dick in and out of the warm clutch of Derek's mouth.Focus. This is about Derek. Stiles stills his hips, letting Derek keep his dick warm and wet for later. Then he sucks Derek's cock into his mouth. Stiles pauses, delighting in the way his lips stretch around it, how heavy it is on his tongue. Hollowing his cheeks, he begins to suck and is immediately rewarded with a bitter spurt of pre-come. He gags but doesn't give up. Slowly, he bobs his head, squeezing and stroking the parts he can't fit into his mouth.More pre-come jets out as Derek's cock fattens up in his mouth. Stiles redoubles his efforts, flicking his tongue back and forth across the head, teasing the slit, before slipping it beneath the foreskin. All the while, he tugs on Derek's heavy balls, rolling them in his palm.There's an ache in his jaw. The corners of his mouth crack as he forces more of Derek's cock into his mouth, desperate to fit every inch into his throat. He needs it, they need it.Again, Derek tries to moan, his throat and tongue working around Stiles' dick. Like he wants another taste.How can Stiles say no? He releases Derek's cock with a slick pop. Braced on his elbows, he fucks down into that divine wet heat as best he can. When he feels Derek's throat fluttering around his cockhead, he comes with a shout. This time he lets Derek swallow every last drop before lifting his hips, letting his wet cock rest against Derek's face.Stiles sighs contentedly, resting his cheek against Derek's sweaty thigh. Bliss, utter bliss. He could fall asleep if he didn't have more he wanted to do with Derek. Idly, he rubs his aching jaw. He'll have to practice on a banana or something. For next time.But that doesn't mean he's going to leave Derek unsatisfied. Now, Derek is fully erect, his fat cock lying against his stomach. The pale foreskin is fully drawn back, revealing the flushed, shiny-wet crown. Stiles gives him an appreciative stroke. I's no wonder he struggled to fit the entire thing in his mouth; Derek is big, way above averageHe crawls down the bed, pushing Derek's legs open so he can get seated between them. Sticky, spiderweb strands of pre-come connect Derek's cockhead to his stomach. Stiles rubs his finger over the slit, gathering them up, so he can get another taste. His eyelids flutter as he laps the bitter fluid up, moaning around his fingertips.No matter what happens, they will have this moment. Stiles may be the only one who remembers it but there's no undoing it.It doesn't take long to get Derek off. A few fast, hard strokes and his cock throbs, pulses. Come spurts out, clear up to Derek's chest. There's so much of it. A never-ending fount. Stiles watches, transfixed, as it puddles in his naval, drips down his side. Through it all, Stiles keeps jacking him off, milking him, until the last few drops dribble over his fingers.Derek is absolutely coated in his own spend. It's insane, the amount of come. Creamy white rivulets run down his sides, seeping into the sheets and mattress below. Going to waste.Stiles bends down and slurps it up, right off of that toned stomach. It's bitter and bleachy, and he cannot get enough. He messily laps it up, chin and cheeks coated with come. When that isn't enough, Stiles scoops it up, sucking semen right off of his fingers."Divine," Stiles slurs around his fingers. He gives them one more good suck and then pulls them out of his mouth. "That was so good, love." He squeezes and caresses Derek's thigh. "So good."Do Derek's eyelids flutter? Stiles goes still, heart pounding, as Derek mumbles something in his sleep. He tosses his head from side to side, caught up in a dream. Then he exhales, long and slow, the pills pulling him back under."We're running out of time, love," Stiles murmurs. "But I haven't had my fill of you yet."Carefully, he rolls Derek over onto his stomach, making sure that his head is tilted to the side so he breathe. On Derek's back, etched across those shoulderblades, is a black spiraling tattoo. With trembling fingers, Stiles traces it, feeling the raised skin."It's beautiful," Stiles tells him before leaning down to plant a kiss directly in the centre. What it means, he couldn't even begin to guess. The size of it, the way it spirals out into three branches… It must mean something important to Derek. Looking up the meaning would solve the puzzle but hearing it from Derek would satisfy something deeper in Stiles.Derek's lips move but no sound escapes. Gently, Stiles shushes him, combs fingers through his midnight-black hair. Soothing.Stiles says, "You're going to enjoy this," as he trails his fingers down Derek's muscled back, following the path of his spine to the swell of his muscled ass. He cups and squeezes Derek's asscheeks, spreading them, revealing his hole.Searing lust overcomes him. Stiles shoves Derek's legs open wide, making room. Again, he spreads Derek's ass open, rubbing his hole with the pad of his thumb. Impatient, he presses his thumb inside. Derek clenches around him, eager for more. As if Stiles could ever leave him wanting.Needing to taste every part of him, Stiles pulls his thumb out of Derek's hole and sucks it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering with sick desire, he hollows his cheeks, sucking until salivia runs down his wrist.Waiting isn't an option. Time is short, and who knows when Stiles will have this chance again? He's painfully hard, pearlescent drops of precome gathering on his cockhead. Nothing and no one has ever made him feel this hungry, this insatiable. Only Derek.He spreads Derek's ass open again and spits. Right on Derek's hole. Stiles does it again and again, before rubbing the saliva in and around his hole. Slicking him up. His cock twitches, balls tightening, as he quickly preps Derek.Inside, Derek is all tight wet, heat. Stiles spreads him open, fucks him with three fingers, massaging and pushing at the muscle. When Stiles glances up, he finds Derek's face still lax with sleep with not even a frown marring his features. Intellectually, he knows that it must be the work of the sleeping pills. Yet he hopes, desperately, that some part of Derek can feel what he's doing. Feel their connection.Any more prep would just be a torment to them both. Stiles wipes his wet fingers on the bedsheets. Then he lines himself up, rubbing his cockhead against Derek's entrance, before fucking inside with one thrust.Derek makes a noise, his mouth downturned, but he squeezes down on Stiles' cock so it must feel good. Knees digging into the mattress, Stiles rolls his hips slowly at first, then faster and faster. With every thrust, Derek's fat ass bounces. It's too enticing to ignore, and Stiles is struck by a desire to mark that pale skin up.He slaps one asscheek, the skin immediately reddening. Stiles grins and slaps the other cheek, leaving behind a handprint. Marking Derek, but only skin-deep. If he could, he'd carve Derek open and crawl inside. That thought spurns him on and he fucks Derek harder, hips pistoning, fingers clenched into the flesh of Derek's ass.Every thrust pushes Derek up the mattress, the crown of his head bumping against the headboard. Stiles fucks him and fucks him, hips slapping against his ass, the sound loud and lurid. The mattress squeaks, bounces, beneath them.All too soon, his balls tighten. The pleasurable pressure in his abdomen builds and builds, threatening to spill out of him. Stiles grits his teeth, trying to hold his orgasm at bay, not wanting this moment to end. But Derek squeezes around him, and Stiles can't fight it, not anymore. With a strangled noise, he comes, grinding his hips against that delectable ass.The entire time, Derek clenches, milking him and extending his climax. Stiles lets out a deep groan, head falling back. He pumps his hips once, twice more, before pulling out. For a brief moment, a silvery thread connects them before snapping."So good," Stiles moans, eyelids fluttering. He rubs Derek's pink ass, spreading the cheeks so he can watch as his come slips out, dripping down over Derek's balls. "You were so good for me, love."He grabs the discarded boxers from the floor and hastily cleans up, pressing the fabric against Derek's used and dripping asshole. There's a permanent frown on Derek's face, a sure sign that it's time to skedaddle. Stiles redresses Derek as best he can, yanking down his wifebeater and sliding the damp boxers back on. He flings the blankets back over Derek, covering up everything.A pleasant dream. That's all Derek will remember. As painful as that is, it's for the best. Maybe in a few weeks, a month or so, Stiles can come back and they can be together. Snatched moments in time, that's all their relationship can ever be."Goodbye, love," Stiles whispers, running his fingers through Derek's sweat-soaked hair. "Until next time."As silently as a ghost, Stiles gets dressed and descends the stairs. On his way out, he locks the backdoor, replacing the key beneath the ceramic wolf statue. Satisfied that he left no discernable trace of his presence, Stiles walks home, humming the whole way back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Harsh sunlight in his eyes. Morning alarm blaring as his phone buzzes across the nightstand. A burning ache in his ass.Derek blinks his eyes open. He flails an arm out, fumbling for his phone. There's a tingling numbness in his fingers, a heaviness to his body that usually happens after he's gotten plastered. But he didn't drink that much, not last night at least. So what the fuck…?He swipes his alarm off then drops the phone back on the nightstand. Getting up is out of the question. Shifting his legs, he can feel the weakness in them. Almost like he's coming down with something. Or was roofied.No, it's just his bad habits catching up with him. The poison he smokes to cope with the crushing reality of existence dulls his senses. Makes them human. All the better to blend in, honestly. Peter says it's good for him to be around people and being around people means not being able to smell what they ate or when they last took a piss.With a groan, he rolls over onto his back. Stares up at the ceiling fan. Outside, cicadas drone on and on in the heat of the day.Did he go out last night? If so, he doesn't remember it. All he can recall is another shitty day at the garage. Grabbing lunch with Boyd. Coming home, eating dinner. Watching TV. Drinking a couple beers.They had tasted… off. Derek's nose wrinkles at the thought of it. Not bad, no, just… More bitter than usual. Astringent.Derek swallows, throat sore and hot.It couldn't be. It's impossible. Even with his senses being dulled, if he were - if he were attacked, surely he would have woken up.There's an odd tightness to his face. Like it's been coated in something that dried overnight. He rubs at his face and something flakes off. Something white and bitter smelling.The ache between his legs - around his asshole, inside him - intensifies. What happened can't be disputed. It can't be ignored. But how? Why? Who?Allison Argent comes to mind. They had been messing around, despite their family histories, but after she carved slut across the hood of his car, he had ended things. Quite understandably in his opinion, but she acted like the wrong party, denying everything, acting like he was the crazy one. Peter had intervened, fast-tracking a restraining order, but the protection granted by a piece of paper is flimsy.But no. Whoever ra - whoever fucked him had a dick. And not a strap-on. The dried semen on his face is evidence of that, as is the foul taste in his mouth. His attacker had ejaculated all over his face and down his throat. But what about…?With a wince, Derek sits up and pushes the blankets away. Teeth indentations on his chest. The hair on his stomach is matted down, practically glued to his stomach. His boxers are on backwards, stained and crusty. A hasty cleanup.Now that he's aware of what happened last night, the smell of sex is impossible to ignore. He was covered in come, from face to chest. Derek flares his nostrils, trying to scent who it was, but the smell of his own semen mixes well with his attacker's. Whoever raped him made sure he got off at least once. How fucking gracious.He wriggles out of his soiled boxers. They reek of the stranger's come but he needs a stronger scent source. Gingerly, he presses his fingers against his sore, fluttering hole. They come away slick, covered with pearlescent fluid.The scent is unquestionably male, but he already figured that out. Derek closes his eyes and opens his mouth, letting the scent cover his palette. There's something medicinal. Like whoever did this takes something daily. Antidepressants maybe. Derek huffs in another breath, fingers close to his nose. It's almost familiar, but he can't quite place it.Derek licks the semen off his fingers. His fangs sharpen, lengthen. Young, his mind supplies. Soft, young prey. It doesn't make sense. A teenager attacked him? Broke into his house? Without him knowing?The drugs. Derek clenches his jaw, forcing his fangs away. They must have weakened him more than he ever thought possible. Shit, fuck. If Peter finds out, he'll never hear the end of it.Getting out of bed is painful but then again Derek is used to pain, isn't he? It's just pain, Peter told him once. For everyone else - for everyone with a normal, functioning brain - it's temporary, fleeting. Ebbing and flowing. Not for him. Pain is his constant companion. It has been ever since Laura was murdered.Oh, that's not quite true. It's been longer than that, much longer. Since birth, really, Derek's felt off. An outsider, even among his own kind. Faulty wiring. And never before has he been so aware of it than in this moment. This is not the first or even the second time he's been taken advantage of, used, and abused. There's a weakness in him, a fatal flaw, that draws monsters to him.This time, though, there will be no justice for him. This stranger, the male who mounted him in the middle of the night like a coward, who used him like a toy - this stranger is a teenager. Who would believe Derek was the victim? The survivor. No, it'd get twisted, and Derek would be the one locked up.His only recourse is vengeance. Of returning the favour.Derek limps to the bathroom, his resolving hardening with every step. No one can know. Not Boyd or Kira, not even Peter. He'll keep this dark secret and bide his time. No more drugs, no more booze. Once that shit is out of his system, he'll track down his attacker.And then Derek will make him pay. It takes a week for the drugs to leave his system. It's a relatively painless process. Despite what Peter thinks, Derek is not an addict. Having fun and partying and is what well-adjusted adults do. If he sometimes goes overboard, well. That's not evidence of a problem, not if everyone else is in the same fucking boat.To prove this, Derek squirreled his stash away behind some old cereal boxes. Finding aconite-infused marijuana is difficult. Hunters sometimes sell it but more often than not, they up the dosage to lethal levels. Derek is a lot of things but suicidal isn't one of them. The high he gets from the aconite is pleasant, and he's never had a bad trip.The poisoned beer bottles are another story. Those Derek had drained immediately. It's clear they were dosed with something, maybe xanax or some kind of sleep-aid. For a while, Derek had toyed with the idea of forcing his stalker to drink them, but he decided having them in his house was more trouble than it's worth.Regardless, it's clear that Peter may have been right bout the aconite-infused pot. With every passing day free of them, Derek's senses heighten, quickly reaching the normal preternatural levels of a healthy, well-adjusted werewolf. And with his faculties returning, it becomes clear that his attacker has been inside his house, on multiple occasions. Waiting to strike.But this kid is no hunter. There's no acrid scent of wolfsbane anywhere, just the fragrant, sharp stench of a boy. A teenage boy. An admirer, perhaps? The scent is strongest in the bedroom - fuck, is it ever - but also present on the couch and in the linen closet. A fucking kid has been scurrying around, spying on him.The thought of it makes his fangs ache.The kid has been relatively careful. As much as a lustful teenage boy can be. Derek hasn't found any physical evidence of his presence. Just his scent.Well. His scent and copious amounts of jizz. More proof of his youth. Surely an adult attacker wouldn't have been able to come that much. Or been that singularly focused: Derek had been sore for longer than he expected. Was that kid just looking to brutalise someone? No, there's easier targets. Safer targets. Even though there's no way the kid could know that Derek's a werewolf, rapists usually go for old ladies or teenage girls. Not adult men.A somewhat familiar scent, one of a teenage boy with a crush or some sick fixation. There's really only one boy it could be.Stiles Stilinski. The son of the sheriff.The first time Derek saw Stiles was at the station. Derek was being hauled in for vandalism or some other petty bullshit, and Stiles had been there, doing homework. Stiles had been young, a coltish creature with big eyes and a buzzed head. When Derek looked at him, Stiles' face had flushed cherry-red and his little heart had nearly burst out of his chest.A crush. One that Derek could never have returned. Stiles was a child, at least ten years younger than Derek. It had been a cute moment, but not one that Derek thought much of. Really, the only times he remembered it at all were when he ran into Stilinski around town. A scant handful of times. Derek doesn't make a habit of hanging around teenagers.But there had been that day in the park. When was it? Some months ago. Derek had been out with Boyd and Kira. Getting drunk in the park, swinging from the monkey bars like children. Stiles had wandered by, reeking of sex, and his face had turned a delicate pink when they made eye contact.On that occasion, Derek had thought that maybe one day they'd hook up. When Stiles was older. If Derek was still around and Stiles didn't grow up to be a fucking cop. Maybe, maybe, maybe.Seems like Stiles had been imagining the same. Only he hadn't been content to wait. Or maybe the waiting got to be too much and he had to act.It's something Derek can relate to as he scales the side of the Stilinski house. The moon is brightly lit and swollen but the house is empty and the neighbors are all distracted by whatever game shows they're watching. There's no one around to witness him creep along the roof towards Stiles' room. The window squeaks as he slides it open. The sharp scent of teenage boy wafts out, and Derek's mouth waters as he climbs inside.Stiles' room is likely the same as any other teenage boy's. There's video game cases scattered around on the floor, piles of laundry (clean and dirty), and the twin-sized bed is unmade, mussed. On the computer desk is a slim, silver laptop and some school books. These Derek flips through idly before tossing them down, not bothering to put them back where they were before.The bed squeaks as Derek sits on it. He bounces a moment, testing it, and decides that this room, while fitting, won't do. It's too risky, unless he takes a page from Stiles' book and stalks the residents for a few months. Bullets won't kill him but getting shot in the head hurts.Besides, Peter wouldn't approve. Raping Stiles in his little boy bed would be gauche. A proper werewolf would do it in the woods, among nature. But how?Derek lays back on the bed, staring up the unfamiliar ceiling. In one corner, there's a cluster of glo-in-the-dark stars. A car drives by, the lights moving across the room.Maybe he could drug the boy. Dose him with something, the same way he did to Derek. No, impossible. Again, Derek would have to stalk him, learn his schedule, for that to be effective.What about grabbing the boy and throwing him into the back of the Camaro? That could work. At least until Stiles screamed and attracted the attention of one of the deputies crawling around town. Then Derek'd be back in jail, for good this time. Assuming Stiles cried for help. The little deviant might end up enjoying his punishment.Surrounded as he is with Stiles' scent and his dark thoughts, it's not surprising when his cock stiffens. He palms it through his jeans, cupping it, and he turns his head, pressing his cheek against the mussed bed sheets. Stiles.Derek undoes his fly, yanking the zipper down and pulling out his dick, stroking until it's fully hard and the base begins to pulse and swell. Pre-come leaks out of his slit, sliding down the shaft. He sweeps his thumb around his cockhead, rubbing it against the slit, milking more out.However he does it, he knows one thing: he's going to knot Stiles. It'll be a first for both of them. The mere thought of it has him bucking his hips, fucking his cock into his tightly clenched fist. Groaning, he flips onto his stomach and gets up on his knees, bracing himself with one bent arm. The warm, lush scent of teenage boy, of Stiles, floods his mind, crowding out his higher reasoning.His fangs lengthen, drool dripping down onto the bed. Derek pants and moans, eyes squeezes shut, as he fucks his fist, picturing his pale-faced stalker beneath him. Would Stiles cry for mercy? Beg him to slow down as he fucked him raw? Oh, Derek hopes so, he so badly hopes so.As he imagines Stiles clenching and sobbing around his knot, he drills into his fist, rubbing his palm against the swollen base. The tension in his abdomen builds and builds, his ass clenches. His knot grows, forcing his fingers apart as it swells up, quickly becoming larger than his own fist."Stiles," he groans as he collapses against the bed. His hips snap as he drags his cock along the bed sheets, tagging them with his pre-come, spreading his scent. He digs his claws into the mattress, the fabric snagging and tearing. "That's it, fuck, fuck."With a growl, Derek comes and comes and comes, soaking the bed sheets, cock jerking and twitching. Blearily, he keeps thrusting, grinding his hips against the bed, his mind and senses so full of Stiles. The boy is all he can think about, all he can smell. Almost delirious, Derek laves his tongue across the soiled bed sheets, tasting the residue of boy-sweat. He flicks his tongue across his fangs, the roof of his mouth to spread the taste around.Knotting is meant to be a special thing. His mother said it was for love, but Peter always said it was for breeding. When it comes to Stiles, neither of those fits, not really. Whatever madness that has settled upon him is not love nor the urge to procreate. It's something new. A twisted connection between him and the teenage boy who assaulted him."Stiles," Derek mumbles. Beneath him is a puddle of cooling jizz. Likely, he's ruined Stiles' little boy bed forever. No matter how often the sheets are changed, Derek's scent, the proof of his vengeful heart, will linger. Stiles will walk around, carrying his scent, and not even know.Outside, a car door slams. A boy laughs loudly at something.Derek grabs a hoodie and quickly mops himself. He tosses it aside, then he rumples the sheets, hiding the worst of the mess. Just as the front door opens, Derek climbs back through the window and onto the roof. Carefully, he slides the window shut, wincing at the squeak it makes. He crouches down, making sure to stay close to the side of the house.The sound of someone running up the stairs with all the exuberance of youth. The bedroom door flies open, bouncing off the wall. "Oh shit," Stiles - for it must be him - says. "My dad's going to kill me."From his hiding spot in the shadows, Derek can only see a sliver of the bedroom; the desk and part of a bookshelf. But he can sense a flurry of movement coming from inside, and then Stiles plops down in his computer chair. Derek tenses up, black fur sprouting along his arms before he reins in his instincts. Oblivious, Stiles spins around in the chair, sighing heavily.Fucking brat. Derek will give him something to mope about. Just wait. In the meantime, he watches as Stiles frowns at the schoolbooks on his desk. There's no denying the kid is beautiful. He's all pale, dewy skin and plush pink lips. His long, slim fingers seem almost delicate as he tap tap taps away on his laptop.Even though Stiles isn't doing anything interesting or illicit, it's thrilling to watch him secretly. It seems the kid just can't sit still; he bounces his knee, chews on his thumb, and runs his hands through his hair so it sticks up chaotically. Every now and then, he glances at the textbooks on his desk and his heartbeat spikes.Oh, to be in the room, scenting and tasting the undercurrent of anxiety that must run through Stiles' scent. Derek clenches his fists, his claws cutting into the meat of his palms. His erection presses painfully against the fly of his jeans, the base throbbing and pulsating in time with his heartbeat.This isn't natural. His instincts should be driving him to kill Stiles, to rend him limb from fucking limb, not encouraging him to breed with the human boy. Just by touching him, Stiles has changed some fundamental part of him. Like a virus, Stiles infected him, spreading sickness to the core of him.He's going to fuck this boy to death.But not now. Not here. Derek creeps to the edge of the room and jumps down, landing silently in the grass. Every part of him screams to turn back, to crawl in through that window, and throw Stiles to the ground. Fur bristles down his spine as he hunches over, back bowing, fighting the shift and his animal instincts. His bones creak, aching to transform."No," he growls out, glaring balefully at the waxing moon. "Not yet. Soon." Every muscle in his body tightens, spasming, then loosens as he pushes the shift back to stay in human form. He stands up, cracking his neck. With one last look at Stiles' bedroom, Derek lopes off into the woods.Unlike Stiles, he has no need to put together an elaborate plan. Like a moth to fire, Stiles will be drawn to him once again. All Derek needs to do is wait. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't take long. A month after Derek's reconnaissance, he's doing some meal prep for the next week when he glances out his kitchen window and sees Stiles' hiding in a bush. Immediately, Derek wrenches his gaze away, pretending to be wholly focused on the bell peppers he's dicing. His hands are shaking too badly to continue, but he keeps his head down, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning.It's the perfect night for it. The night sky is overcast and ripe with potential. Derek turns away and opens the fridge door. Using it as cover, he shifts; his ears grow pointed and wolven, and his senses heighten. Stiles' heartbeat is rabbit-quick. Lust or anxiety? Soon Derek will be able to taste it on his skin.To his credit, when Derek steps outside onto the tiny back porch, Stiles goes absolutely still even though his heart rate spikes. The delectable scent of fear reaches him, and Derek's eyes flutter closed. The human part of his mind shrinks back, all emotion and sense of morality consumed by animal lust. His cock throbs as his fangs descend, pressing against his bottom lip.Derek descends the old wooden steps casually. Then he walks across the backyard, making no attempt to obfuscate his destination. He's utterly fixated on the bush hiding Stiles' quaking form."No," Stiles whispers to himself. He edges away, rocks shifting beneath his feet, and makes a small prey noise of fear."Yes," Derek growls in response. Then he breaks into a sprint, headed right for Stiles.Reflexively, Stiles screams as he bolts heading into the forest. He runs through the woods like a baby deer, clumsily darting left and right, hopping over fallen logs, tripping over rocks. Derek hangs back, letting him get ahead, before chasing after the boy in earnest, much louder than he ever would normally. He wants, needs, Stiles to know where he's at.There's no escape. Stiles is a toy on a string for him.Stiles cries out in pain as he scrapes his side against a tree. He comes to a stumbling stop and bends over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath like he's dying. Irritated, Derek stops a few yards away. A longer chase would have been nice, but it's clear that Stiles isn't much of an athlete."I know you're just trying to scare me." Stiles wipes the sweat from his brow and stands up straight. He's almost as tall as Derek is, but he's lankier, slight. "Let's get it over with, okay? I'm sorry I was trespassing, but next time just call the police, don't pretend like you're gonna kill me.""Who's pretending?"Audibly, Stiles swallows. "It's not going to work," he declares, voice reedy. "I-I'm not afraid of you, dude."Derek grins. "That's not what it smells like." When Stiles' heartbeat skyrockets, Derek says, "Lying to me is a waste of time. You're terrified. And you should be."Instead of arguing, Stiles runs off again, crashing through the underbrush. Delaying gratification has never been one of Derek's virtues, but he does his best, waiting and waiting, trembling with anticipation. When the sound of Stiles' heartbeat is a flicker, Derek takes off. As he runs, he lets the shift take over. Fur sprouts from his arms and legs, his ears become pointed, the bones of his face reform. His limbs and muscles lengthen, and his running gait turns into a lope.He catches up to Stiles in moments, tackling the boy to the forest floor. Stiles goes down hard, crying out with pain as Derek lands on him. Keeping him pinned. He presses his knee between Stiles' shoulder blades and pushes down, as hard as he dares, wrestling with his animal instincts. Shuddering, Derek wins out against the shift, using Stiles' scent to anchor him to humanity.Stiles twists his head to the side, sucking in gulps of air through his mouth. Blood pours from his nose freely. "D-Derek, please…"Derek snarls, "Shut up," as he stands up and pushes his basketball shorts down. He steps out of them and rips his tank top off. Weakly, Stiles tries to crawl away, but Derek grabs him by the ankle and yanks him backwards. Stiles' shirt rides up, revealing a band of pale skin dotted with beauty marks. "I'm just giving you what you wanted so badly the other night."Stiles' breath hitches. "W-what…?" He twists around to see, his eyes widening with fear when his gaze lands on Derek. "I-I don't, that wasn't -"The time for talking is over. He lunges, grabbing Stiles by the hair, pulling him up to his knees. Stiles yells, slapping at Derek's hand, but otherwise doesn't fight back. Trembling, he stares up at Derek, a steady stream of blood dripping down his chin. Derek slides his hand from the boy's hair to his face, cupping his cheek. With his thumb, he pulls Stiles' bottom lip down and pushes it inside."Open your mouth." When Stiles doesn't respond, Derek digs the point of his claw against his tongue. That gets Stiles' jaw dropping. Derek fish hooks his cheek, keeping his mouth open as he strokes his shaft. Stiles has no choice but to watch, eyes wide and wild, his entire body shaking. "If you bite me, I'll rip your balls off."But Stiles doesn't bite as Derek feeds his cock into his mouth. He doesn't pull away or bat at Derek's legs. No, he kneels there like a good boy, mouth open and tongue out, his fists at his sides. His heart is racing, the dual scents of fear and blood wafting from him.Derek thrusts in and out slowly at first, testing. When Stiles doesn't fight back, he speeds up, fucking his cock into Stiles' mouth. His cockhead hits the back of Stiles' throat, and Stiles makes a wounded sort of noise but still makes no attempt to fight or run. Derek doesn't question it. He grabs the sides of Stiles' head and forces the boy to take him deeper, until Stiles' nose is pressed against his stomach.Stiles makes an offended noise and gestures wildly at his nose. Derek ignores him. He stills his hips and instead moves Stiles' head, using his mouth like a fleshlight. Stiles chokes, drool spilling out of his mouth and blood bubbling out of his nose. He digs his dull human nails into Derek's ass, whining with displeasure as he's forced to deepthroat Derek's cock. His throat flutters as he gags on it."Did you do this to me?" Derek wrenches Stiles' head back, freeing his cock. Stiles stares at it dumbly, lips cracked and swollen, his tongue sticking out. "Did you skullfuck me? Use me? Like I was your fucking toy."At that, Stiles looks up at him. There's a weird light in his eyes. Where fear should be, there's only delight. It'd be unsettling if he had any power in this situation. Stiles' face is a mess of dirt, spit, and blood. He's still shaking, but it's not with fear. Not anymore."You remember me," Stiles says, his voice thick with some unnameable emotion.Snarling, Derek throws him to the ground. Stiles grunts at the impact, but he eagerly lifts his hips when Derek pulls at his jeans, yanking them down over his feet. Derek hooks Stiles' knees over his elbows and reaches down to line himself up, rubbing the fat head of his cock against Stiles' dry hole."Lube?" Stiles squeaks out, his face pale beneath the blood and muck. His dick is half-hard, his heartbeat spiking with sudden fear."Did you use any on me?" Derek doesn't wait for a response. He pushes in, forcing himself inside. Stiles shrieks, slapping at Derek's shoulders, his back arching as he tries to wriggle away. Derek doesn't stop. He shoves Stiles' knees down, bending him in half, and forces more of his cock inside. Already, the base is throbbing, threatening to swell up and tie them together.The dry-drag and friction keeps his knot at bay. Stiles is hot and tight inside, but Derek can't fuck him properly with only spit lubricating the way. He keeps at it, moving his hips in dirty rolls, sinking his cock in deeper and deeper. Beneath him, Stiles has a hand pressed against his mouth, keeping his cries muffled, while the other rests on the ground, his fist clenching and unclenching.It's not working. Derek growls, a rumbling thing that makes Stiles' eyes fly open wide, and readjusts, getting down on his elbows and letting Stiles' legs rest on his shoulders. Like this, they're face to face, close enough to kiss, more than close enough for Derek to see every ounce of discomfort and pain in Stiles' eyes. Tentatively, Derek pulls all the way out. When Stiles hisses, his little face screwing up in pain, Derek grins and fucks his way back in.Pre-come and blood ease the way this time. Derek fucks into Stiles relentlessly, faster than he ever has with a human. Stiles makes ah ah ah noises, barely audible over the sounds of Derek's hips slapping into his ass. He wraps his arms around Derek's neck, holding on for dear life, his eyes squeezed tight."Slow down," Stiles begs. "You're going too fast, please…" His fingers scrape deliciously against the nape of Derek's neck.Human language is beyond him. Derek licks the corner of his boy's mouth, his chin, chasing the dried rivulets of blood. Tasting Stiles, the way he's been longing to ever since he woke up that morning. His gums ache, his fangs begging to slide free and sink themselves into the pale column of Stiles' throat.Stiles' eyes snap open. He wriggles his hips as best he can while still being pinned down. That's not - this isn't supposed to be loving or reciprocal, it's vengeance, it's retribution. Derek snaps his jaws in warning, but when Stiles moans and arches up, rubbing his hard cock against Derek's stomach, Derek throws caution to the wind. He bites down on Stiles' collarbone, his blunt, human teeth sure to leave a bruise."Fuck!" Stiles still his hips. Fresh tears leak from the corners of his eyes. These Derek laps up, chasing the taste of pain and lust until he's licking at Stiles' hairline. Mouth pressed against his temple, Derek pants and moans as the tension in his abdomen builds and builds, his balls drawing up tight. He pushes in as deep as his can, grinding and circling his hips, and he must hit a good spot because Stiles' eyes roll up and his mouth falls open.The base of Derek's cock begins to swell. Each thrust is punctuated with a wet squelch as Derek fucks him and fucks him, just keeps fucking him even as he whines and throws his head back, baring his throat like a bitch in heat. Derek gets up on his knees, needing to see Stiles' face when they're tied.But Stiles clings to him, arms tightening around his neck like they're lovers, pulling Derek back in. "I love you," Stiles cries out as he wraps his legs around Derek's waist. "I love you, I love you."This is wrong. The declaration pierces through the animal haze, and Derek rears back, still rolling his hips but slowly now as he stares down at the teenage boy he's raping. Or trying to rape. He doesn't - what the actual fuck is he doing? Derek pulls out and stands up, stumbling back as reality sets in. Whatever Stiles did to him at least it wasn't violent. It was gentle, as gentle as a teenager could be."Wait, please," Stiles says, and he actually reaches out for Derek. "You can feel it, can't you? Our connection?"Derek barks out, "We don't have a connection."Stiles' gaze drops down to Derek's dick. It's still hard, the cockhead flushed with blood, the base swollen and thick. Fuck. All Derek has to do is touch himself once, maybe three times, and he'd shoot off."You remembered me," Stiles says insistently. He makes no move to cover himself or get dressed. He sits there, on the forest floor, knees bent and spread, showing off his hard cock and wrecked, fluttering hole. "You sensed me, back at your house. You want me as badly as I want you."He shakes his head. Denying it or explaining is impossible; he opens his mouth but no words come out. Because there's a truth to it, isn't it? Otherwise Derek would have just killed Stiles, or gone to the police, or told Peter what happened so he could kill Stiles. Instead, Derek dreamed of this moment and of getting to knot Stiles.Knotting is for love, his mother had told him.The overcast sky clears and grey moonlight filtering through the trees, the branches spread above them like vena cava. Stiles pulls his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it to the side as he says, "At least jerk off on me or something, don't just leave me here." He casually strokes himself, thumbing the head of his cock, spreading pre-come around.Whatever this feeling is, it's not love. It can't be. Love is supposed to be this gentle, warm thing. It's not supposed to make him want to bite and dominate. But there is something between them. Something primal and unnameable.Still hard, Derek sits on the ground, rocks and twigs digging into the meat of his ass. "Get over here," he orders, something dark and possessive blooming in his chest when Stiles obeys, crawling over on all fours. "That's it," he murmurs, hauling Stiles into his lap, position him above his cock.Stiles spits in his hand and reaches down to spread it over Derek's erection. Lubing him up. When he feels the knot, he looks down in apparent shock. "You're something else, aren't you?" he asks softly, resting his hand over the love-bite on his collar bone. "That's how you found me."Explaining werewolves can wait. Derek grabs his slender waist and pulls him down onto his cock. Stiles' head falls back as he lets down a deep moan. Slowly, Stiles lifts himself up before sinking back down. His movements are graceless but earnest, his cock bobbing between them as he fucks himself on Derek's dick.Derek tightens his grip on Stiles' waist, encouraging him to rotate his hips. Cute little whimpers fall from his mouth as he complies, grinding down in circles. Pre-come drools from his cock, sliding down the shaft, smearing across Derek's stomach. It's almost a torment, just letting Stiles use him, watching as he takes his pleasure. Derek's knot throbs, his balls tingling, as he fights back the urge to tie."You're shaking," Stiles pants out, still bouncing on Derek's dick. "You're holding back. Holding it back. Don't. I want it, I want all of you."So be it. Derek's claws cut into Stiles' soft skin as he raises the boy up and then slams him back down. A pained grunt forces its way out of Stiles' throat, but he doesn't complain, just wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders. Again and again, Derek forces Stiles down onto his cock, his knot kissing Stiles' rim. Derek watches raptly as pinkish fluid flows down his shaft, a potent and slick mixture of blood and pre-come.Stiles sobs when the knot disappears inside him. Quickly, Derek yanks him up but forces him to take it again and again, the sound of it popping in and out lurid and obscene. Stiles tries to squirm away, pushing at his chest and shoulders, but he's weak and kittenish compared to Derek. Even so, he clenches down uncontrollably, like he's trying to hold the knot inside. Like he can divine the meaning.The knot swells. Derek's eyes roll back in his head, his hips twitching up in tiny thrusts. If he pulls it out now then he'll tear Stiles for real, and he doesn't want that, not anymore. But now Stiles takes back over, circling his hips the way Derek taught him, rocking back and forth desperately, coaxing out Derek's come. Gently, he mouths at Derek's neck, and it feels like a promise.With a small cry, Stiles comes, rocking his hips desperately, his head falling back. Jizz sprays against Derek's stomach and chest, splattering all the way up to his neck. The smell of it sets Derek off, and he comes with a snarl. Stiles' belly swells as Derek fills him up. Even the knot can't hold it all in; come leaks out around it, overflowing.Derek comes again and again, waves of pleasure crashing over him, drowning out human thought. In the throes of it, he bites down on Stiles' neck, fangs sliding through his tender flesh, giving into animal instinct again. After a moment, he withdraws his fangs and laps at the wound. It'll heal over nicely, and soon.A feedback loop of pleasure. Stiles squeezes around the knot, milking it, and Derek's brain lights up like a power station at the feeling. Eyelids fluttering. Brain fuzzy, as euphoria bubbles beneath his skin. The sweet taste of young blood coats his fangs, drips down his chin. The whole while, Stiles croons declarations of love in his ear."We're meant to be," Stiles says. "This is the proof. We're tied together, forever." It's nonsense, all of it, but logic is swept away when Stiles bites the side of Derek's neck. Hard.Derek hisses in pain, raking his claws down Stiles' back. Stiles leans back into the touch like a contented cat, clenching down around Derek again.Stiles pulls away from Derek's neck. His teeth are stained with blood. "You love me," he says, eyes shining brightly.It's not love. It's not. Yet Derek says, "If you fuck anyone else, I'll kill them.""Only you," Stiles assures him. Then, almost shyly, he leans in and presses their mouths together. For a moment, Derek doesn't respond, letting it be a chaste thing. But when Stiles nibbles on his bottom lip, Derek obeys and opens his mouth. Almost sweetly, Stiles tongue sweeps inside, their tongues tangling and sliding against each other. Hot and slick.Derek breaks the kiss, panting roughly. He's never been more out of control in his life, never. Peter is going to fucking kill him, if he's lucky. If he's unlucky then his uncle will break their pack bond, making him an omega. A lone wolf, with an underage boyfriend. He'll be strung up in a dark basement within a week."Whatever you're worried about, stop." Stiles rests his forehead against Derek's. Their noses brush. "We're together now, and nothing is gonna change that."Revulsion makes him shudder, but then Stiles squeezes around his knot. Another wave of bliss washes over him, chasing away reality. "Yeah," he whispers, tilting Stiles' head up so they can kiss again.