#sterekweekly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

triskhellion · 2 years ago

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Second Chance Strays

Rated: Explicit (8.4K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Larem the red deer, unnamed Julia Baccari

Tags: Magical Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Graphic Violence, Getting Together, First Kiss, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, Fuck or Die, Claiming, Various Explicit Sex Acts, Knotting, Mating Bites, Mating Bonds, Wilderness Survival, Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski

Mead Moons prompts: 21, Becomes, Buck, Claiming, Hay, Herbs, & Mead. @sterek-and-stuff-events

Sterek Weekly prompt: Explore (also Healthy & Family.)

When Stiles found the wolf injured and unconscious in the snow he sighed heavily, but dragged the unusually large animal onto his sled over the snorted objections of his hoof-stamping hart.

“Don’t worry, Larem, I won’t let it eat you,” he said, scratching around a soon to be shed antler and trying to soothe his sole companion of the past 3 years.

Cutting his foraging short, he secured the unfortunate creature and returned to his solitary hut hidden deep in the forest to take a closer look. Male, with thick, black fur and seeming a healthy weight for his size. That was a good sign. The fact that the wolf had been doing okay before whatever befell him recently gave him a better chance of survival. Stiles had magic yes, but his healing abilities were fairly modest and generally more helping things along than performing outright miracles.

After some minor debate he moved the wolf inside. There wasn’t much for the animal to destroy should he wake and it’d get him out of the elements for now. That way his body could focus on healing and not expending as much energy for warmth, especially with the increase in breath rate he now noticed.

Lighting a fire was an easy task for Stiles’ magic and he went out to boil some water in his smallest pot to cleanse the wounds — the wolf’s right front leg had obviously been caught in a trap, but he’d somehow managed to get out of it — and gathered comfrey, yarrow, chamomile, and calendula from his supply of healing herbs in the meantime.

As he was taught by his mother years before, Stiles used a mortar and pestle to grind them roughly, adding garlic and honey to form a paste. He brought in the hot water and soaked clean cloths to wipe away any debris before applying the poultice and covering it with a strip of fabric. The wolf twitched and whimpered, but remained unconscious.

Stiles put his hands on the now heaving sides of his patient and concentrated, finding something that felt dark and gave the impression of bitterness — a poison? — and began to draw it out. It was hard, but several minutes later he seemed to have gotten it all and the labored breathing eased. He used his power to press the noxious matter into a tiny ball and sealed it pine resin before tossing into the fire.

That done, he filled most of his mid-sized pot with water, salting it, and set it over the flame to make a warming broth with bones from some of his meals over the last few days, which he’d wrapped and buried under the snow. (One didn’t waste anything out here.) He could spare a couple handfuls of grouse as well from his larder out back and still had an ample supply of dock seed flour to make a heartier soup. Stiles took out a large bowl’s worth for the canine and then added onion, garlic, sage, and thyme to the rest.

When he returned he was quite surprised, but not utterly shocked to find a naked man on the floor where the wolf had been. He hadn’t seen such beings in person before, but had heard of them. Stiles put the bowl down on the table and peered at him curiously, noting how his wounds seemed to be gone now and how he looked just like any other man. Well, perhaps not any other man, he was very attractive indeed.

Said man awoke soon after, easing back into consciousness at first and then sitting up quickly, no doubt alarmed by the strange surroundings and possible danger. He whipped around toward Stiles, eyes turning from some pale color to a brilliant red, and growled warily.

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. He knew he should probably be more understanding of whatever his guest had been through, but he’d been alone a long time (aside from dear Larem, pun absolutely intended) and now here he was being threatened in his own home after rescuing the sorry shifter. His own eyes flashed silver and the warning noise cut off immediately. The man awkwardly tried to both curl in on himself and bare his neck at the same time, releasing a short whine before trying to speak.

He croaked and cleared his throat a few times as if from long disuse and then hoarsely said, “I’m sorry, Magus, please forgive me. Please don’t kill me.”

Stiles sighed. So the wolf had heard of his kind too. Magical beings who too often strayed to the dark side and could cause untold harm in their greed and entitlement or simple desire for cruelty.

It wasn’t the majority of them, but any occurrence was too often when as powerful as they could be. In the past couple decades it seemed to be as high as 1 in 8, at least to some degree of malfeasance, and many a decent mage had been hurt or killed in the process of defending against them. A pang of grief ran through Stiles as he thought of his parents; his mother died when he was 9 protecting him and other children from a mad wizard and his father when he was 17, just 3 and a half years ago, ambushed while doing his lawman’s rounds in the city of Beacon. Both had taken their assailants down with them, but it was little consolation.

“I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your wolfy ass to kill you now,” he quipped, walking back toward the table. “It’s nothing exciting, but there’s food if you’d like and water to drink and wash up.”

“Thank you, Magus.”

“Stiles.”

“Pardon, but what’s a “stiles?”

“Me,” he responded, looking through the pile of clean clothes in the corner.

“Sorry, Master Stil—“

“Just call me Stiles and stop apologizing. Now, what’s your name?”

“Derek.”

“Here you go, Derek.”

Stiles threw his loosest shirt and pair of trousers at him and went back out to the fire with the bowl. A minute later the shifter peeked around the corner and then cautiously approached him as he added the soup back to the pot and added more herbs and aromatics.

“I didn’t realize you were a shifter so I took your portion out before the onions and garlic and such,” he explained. Once he figured the flavors had melded nicely he filled the large bowl again and handed it to the stranger, serving his own meal from the cookpot and then gesturing to sit down beside him on the bench. Once he began eating Derek did as well, drinking from the bowl.

“I’d give you a spoon, but I’ve somehow managed to misplace or ruin the others and I haven’t bothered to make more yet since it’s just me that uses them.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m used to eating with my hands or in wolf shape anyway. Thank you for the food. And for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

They continued to eat in silence until the sound of snorting and hooves drew their attention. Stiles looked at the wolf-man and pointed at the 5.5 year old red deer.

“That’s Larem. He’s my friend and helper so don’t eat him.”

Derek started rolling his eyes and then froze after remembering who he was sitting next to. Stiles looked up to the heavens and sighed. The shifter swallowed.

“I-I won’t. I wouldn’t have either. He clearly belongs to someone.”

“Good. ”

And so began their companionship. Derek didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere and Stiles told him that he could stick around if he wanted. He soon built his own little hut a couple hundred feet away on the opposite side of the greenhouse. It was nice having someone to talk to who could answer back and while the wolf certainly had an appetite the amount of game in Stiles' stores increased significantly and he more than came out ahead.

Grouse and wild turkey, rabbit and boar. He told Derek that he wouldn’t begrudge him hunting deer too as long as he did it, and the initial butchering, well away. Stiles taught Derek about dock seed, mallow, the roots and greens of daisies, lambsquarters, and tree sap for sweetening and the wolf brought back crabapples, elderberries, and teaberries that he’d found during his ranging, fashioning a bag to wear in wolf form.

As winter turned to spring they shared more and more of their stories in bits and pieces, Stiles speaking of his parents and his old life in Beacon and Derek telling of his lost pack. Apparently, he had a sister somewhere, but both had assumed the other was dead after they were attacked years ago by Hunters. He eventually learned that she survived and left the area, but could no longer feel her. His uncle came out of a long lasting unresponsive state, but was mad and killed his other sister, leading to Derek having to put him down and becoming an alpha.

This only happened a handful of months ago and he’d spent his time as a wolf ever since until Stiles found him. He’d been hiding from regular hunters when he stumbled into the trap, which had been set by the other kind and soaked in a wolfsbane solution that prevented his usual healing abilities. Derek shifted back to human form just long enough to remove it and then ran far away despite the pain until he passed out from exhaustion and the effects of the poison.

He borrowed from Stiles' haphazard stack of books one at a time — he’d limited himself to 3 dozen when he left Beacon, a mix of fiction and survival/wilderness guides — and built him an actual book shelf. Stiles played minor pranks on him from time to time and played the mandola for him regularly after dinner. One evening when it rained and he’d done his music inside he could’ve sworn that Derek was going to kiss him when he walked the departing werewolf to the door. There was a charged pause, eyes roaming over faces to lips and then back to meet again, but the moment passed with only an awkward smile and a quiet farewell.

Stiles hadn’t much considered the prospect of romance and/or sex with the shifter until then both being completely out of the habit of such things and worried about the possible fallout. He had been texting with Heather about their upcoming first date — his first date, period — flirting and making plans for weekend when he got the news that his father had been killed. Needless to say, it was cancelled along with every other plan he had as he first withdrew into himself and then from society altogether. That had been the entirety of his romantic endeavors and while he masturbated like a typical young man he tried not to dwell on things he didn't, couldn't have.

Then Derek showed up and it also became a matter of not wanting to risk scaring off his only human (-ish) friend or, in the beginning, concerns about taking advantage when the werewolf was still a bit afraid of him. So he just hadn't really let himself go there. But that night Stiles desperately stroked himself while imagining green eyes staring into his as large hands explored him all over. A swarthy, muscular body on top of him and the short beard — which he loaned his scissors to keep trimmed — rubbing against his skin.

He hadn’t actually gotten a proper look at Derek’s cock, but he did his best to imagine it thrusting into him as well, adding two and then three fingers (as much as he could at that angle) to bring himself to completion. After that night Stiles noticed occasional glances and there were little touches here and there, but nothing more came of it, both likely afraid to make the first move. And then one day everything changed.

It was a beautiful afternoon in May and Stiles had decided to leave Larem to rest and enjoy some hay with apples and acorns, setting off to take a nice long walk and go foraging alone instead while Derek was out hunting. He was exploring in a direction where he’d seldom gone, happily picking wild garlic in a small clearing he’d come across, when all of a sudden something made all the hairs on his arm stand up. Danger. Eyes wide he threw himself on the ground and rolled just as a burst of magic hit the spot where he’d been standing.

Fucking darachs. He’d thought he left all of this behind, but apparently even the middle of fucking nowhere wasn’t far enough. Stiles returned fire with his own power, feinting and then hitting the long-haired brunette square in the chest with a what he called a "pain loop," causing her to scream in agony and fury.

He lashed out again with a stunning spell, but she managed to dodge it and all too soon interrupted the paroxysms from his previous strike, eyes glowing milky white as she threw something in sickly shades of green and brown at him. A perversion of earth magic.

Stiles was able to twist away in time and then he was running, weaving between the trees as soon as he reached the edge of the clearing. Not for the first time he bemoaned the fact that he was too young to learn killing spells from his mother, who was loath to know such things, but understood their necessity. He tried to put some distance between them so he could face the dark druid on his own terms, perhaps ambush her on ground of his choosing if he was lucky.

Unfortunately, he was still a ways off from his usual stomping grounds and unbeknownst to him a large tree had fallen and blocked the other end of the fairly short, but narrow path he vaguely remembered from a previous time that he’d come this way. Cursing, he went back and hoped to emerge in time to try another route, but the darach met him on the way out.

He was at the ready so he got off another pain loop even as he was finally hit with whatever foul magic she was dealing out. Stiles gasped as a chill took hold of him and he felt noticeably weaker than he had just moments before. He hit her with the stunning spell as well this time, but he could tell it wasn’t nearly as strong as it should be as he staggered too slowly towards her.

Stiles was planning to kill her the old-fashioned way, with his sufficient enough all-purpose knife, but another wave of weakness went through him and he fell to his knees perhaps 5 or so yards away. Wearing a smirk on her objectively pretty, but...twisted, oblong face the darach rose to her feet, stretching languidly like she just woke refreshed from a nice nap. With horror he realized that that was more or less the case and that it was his power and life-force being siphoned to her benefit.

She didn’t speak, but stood there watching him like a cat not quite ready to pounce again on the mouse she’d been toying with, drawing out her amusement. A flash of darkness fast approaching caught his eye beyond her and he pretended to have a fit in order to keep her attention. I really hope I’m not just seeing things, he thought. Hurry.

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted. The woman rolled her now normal looking light colored eyes and huffed.

“Power, what else?” she replied in a tone that said he was very stupid indeed.

No, what was stupid was wasting time gloating and not paying attention to your surroundings or checking for reinforcements when dealing with an enemy. Stiles ranted about less than mediocre practitioners trying to make themselves feel special with stolen power, but always being the same pathetic losers at heart, punctuating his words by slapping his hands on the ground and rustling the leaves and twigs there. The darach’s face grew dark and she clenched her fists, clearly over his continued existence. Just as she was about to step forward he bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin.

“Go to hell,” he said, and then the massive, red eyed, black wolf was there, leaping to clamp his jaws around the back and right side of her neck. Stiles took great pleasure in the utter shock on her face, lastly only a second or two before Derek brought her to the ground and tore her throat out the moment he regained leverage. As her blood sprayed and splattered a rather impressive distance he felt the effects of her spell slow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Unsteadily, he got up and stumbled toward where Derek was still savaging what was now a tattered corpse.

“I think you got her, dude,” he snickered, feeling not a shred of remorse for the death that just occurred. Who knows how many people she’d hurt or killed before attacking him?

The wolf shook the body one final time and then dropped it, fangs gleaming red like his eyes, before shifting into a naked, blood smeared Derek. Stiles swallowed. That should not be as hot as it was. Apparently that post-battle feral lust thing in stories was real. Derek’s nostrils flared and he made a pleased growling noise, his cock twitching and starting to harden in interest. Oh my god. Stiles was torn between remaining there, frozen, and closing the last few paces between them when his legs suddenly buckled.

“Stiles,” Derek cried, rushing forward to keep him from slumping all the way over.

It took a minute to clear his head and he then realized that while the darach’s draining spell had indeed slowed considerably, it hadn’t stopped even with her death. Like she’d also tied it off somewhere and didn’t only anchor it to herself. What the fuck?!

“Draining spell, need to go home now,” he rushed out. Moments later he was lifted into strong arms and cradled against Derek’s chest as the beta-shifted wolf ran much faster than Stiles’ own feet could ever take him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his diminished well of magic, using it to counteract the spell. It bought him time, but as he was expending more power than he could replenish in his current state doing so only amounted to dying more slowly than he was before. Maybe distance from the casting and using his herbs to restore and amplify his power could make the difference.

He was too weary to stand when they got back so Derek put him down on his bed and tried to find the right jars of plant matter using his descriptions. Stiles had lived alone for so long and had never thought to label what he clearly knew on sight. After trying to figure out which of three nearly identical containers of dried leaves was a particular ingredient a frustrated Derek simply picked him up again and had him point at the right items. The wolf prepared them according to his instructions and he swallowed the resulting tea in between words of focus and intention.

Stiles felt some vitality return, but even after seven mugs of the frankly disgusting stuff over the next hour or so he could tell that it wouldn’t be enough to give him the strength necessary to break the spell. Fuck. He was now at least able to brew the tea himself and continued drinking two to three mugs of it an hour for several hours, pissing like a racehorse in between trying to think of something, anything, else, but he was quickly running out of a couple of the rarer herbs.

There was only so much of the infusion he could consume before it stopped being effective and before both the amount of liquid and the ingredients themselves became toxic anyway. Fuck. As the smallest containers emptied the tension evident in Derek’s body increased, the clenching of his jaw more pronounced and the muscles of his back tighter still. The pants-only shifter alternated between pacing inside the small dwelling, trying to sit quietly, and going outside to check the immediate perimeter for any additional danger.

When Stiles was down to his last mug and half of tea he finally resigned himself to the inevitable. He was going to die by the hand of an evil caster just like his parents. And just like with them, it didn’t matter that the darach had been thoroughly neutralized, though that did at least bring him some satisfaction.

All that hiding and isolation and it had been for nothing in the end. Stiles laughed bitterly. It wasn’t fair. He was only 21, his birthday just the previous month though he hadn’t bothered to mention it. Stiles hadn’t even gotten the chance to see if the whatever between him and Derek eventually went anywhere. It was dark out now and he had seen his last sunrise.

Around three-quarters of an hour later, maybe 10 minutes after taking that final sip, he turned to the silent, intently watching werewolf with a wry smile.

“Promise that you’ll look after Larem for me.” Derek made a wounded noise and he felt a sweet, sad warmth for his friend. Stiles was very sorry to leave him like this, but he was glad to have met him. To have cared for him and know that he had been cared for too. “And promise that you’ll do what you need to do to both survive and not go feral. Find yourself a pack,” he added sternly.

Derek exhaled forcefully and an expression of grim determination came over his face.

“There’s a way…I might be able to save you.”

Stiles gave him the mother of all exasperated looks, throwing up his hands.

“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier because…?”

“I’d have to claim you,” Derek replied, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, but moving closer to him.

“Claim me?” Stiles asked, puzzled.

Like pledging fealty in a ritual or something? Or did the wolf mean giving him the turning Bite? Perhaps he wasn’t aware that it didn’t work on magic users, either doing nothing or killing them.

“Mate you.”

Ohhh.

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Wha—Seriously?!” he blurted out, incredulously. Seriously?!, he echoed internally.

Derek looked like he’d swallowed something sour and was probably about to explain that he was certainly not just trying to have his way with a dying man and how very dare, but Stiles lifted an arm — already feeling heavier again, fuck, this spell was a bitch — and put two fingers to the shifter’s lips before letting it fall again.

“I believe you, Derek. That’s exactly the kind of thing required for binding magic, which I gather this shifter mating stuff is. Blood or bone or, um, essence, and all that kind of thing or some combination thereof. I swear the Universe is a huge perv. It’s just…wow, not at all what I was expecting to hear right now." The werewolf looked at him with fondness and concern. Stiles took a deep breath. “Yeah, you can…you can do that.”

It wasn’t only the increasing weakness that had him trembling when he made his way from the table over to the bed, Derek hovering behind him. He turned and dropped to sit on the mattress, looking up at the older man.

“Kiss me?” he pleaded, wanting to make sure he got to know what it was like and to do some part of this in order.

Derek smiled and caressed his cheek with a knuckle before sliding it under his chin to tip his head up, bending down to press their lips together. Stiles made a soft sound and opened his mouth to allow Derek’s tongue inside after it swept across his lower lip. A minute or so of exploration and deepening kisses later he felt out of breath and drew back, panting but grinning shakily.

He lifted his arms as well as he could and the shifter quickly helped him undress, pulling off his shirt and then gently pushing him back and drawing his pants and underwear down and then off along with his socks. And then there he was — flushed, hard, and lying bare — as hungry red eyes raked over his body.

“Beautiful,” the wolf murmured before removing his own pants and freeing the erection that had been straining against it. Stiles’ eyes widened at seeing Derek fully hard. That was going to go inside him? He might’ve whimpered or maybe his scent was tinged with nervousness or fear because Derek paused to run those large hands along his sides (it felt even better than he’d imagined) and told him that it would be okay before guiding him over onto his belly.

With no hesitation the wolf parted his cheeks and started licking over his hole, circling or pushing at the muscle every few passes. No one had ever touched him sexually much less there — hell, he hadn’t been touched at all in years by another person until the recent brief brushes from Derek — and Stiles was overwhelmed by both the physical sensation and his emotional reaction. The shifter reached up to rub his back and then took hold of ass with both hands once more, soon working his tongue inside. Stiles moaned in pleasure, but then another sudden chill reminded him of the situation.

“Uh, as amazing as this is, you kinda gotta hurry it up, dude,” he got out between breaths. The wolf gave him another long lick before lifting his head and growling in frustration.

“I wanted to take my time with you if this ever happened. You deserve so much better than…” Derek trailed off and Stiles could feel that he was shaking his head.

“I appreciate that big guy and I promise that if this works you can, um, do that as long as you want another time.” Derek snorted.

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you have any—“

“In that cabinet. The tall, thin bottle,” Stiles cut in, jerking his head in its direction. He’d placed a simple preservation spell on it to keep the things inside lasting several times longer than they normally would. The wolf returned with the container of a clear gel, a curious look on his face. “Aloe vera,” he explained. “I brought some plants with me from…before. It grows in the greenhouse. Good for minor burns and injuries and, er, quite viscous and slippery.”

Heeding the need for urgency, Derek immediately gathered some on his fingers and applied it to his entrance and Stiles tensed at its coolness. He made himself relax again, allowing a thick finger to slip inside.

“More,” he gasped, rubbing himself against the bed. “I’ve…used fingers before.”

“I know,” Derek rumbled, pushing a second digit inside. “I’ve heard you.”

Stiles could feel himself turn bright red, which was really rather silly in his current position, but he couldn’t help being somewhat mortified. How many times over the past several weeks, since the kiss that wasn’t, had he brought himself off whispering the wolf’s name?

Derek chuckled and leaned down to kiss his left shoulder blade before going to nibble at his earlobe.

“I almost came to you a few times, my wolf going wild at how you clearly wanted us,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear, making him shiver. “But I figured you had your reasons and fantasy doesn’t always equal what one would actually do.”

“Didn’t want to scare you off…pressure you,” he said, panting.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Derek replied huskily. “And as for pressure…”

The shifter got a bit more of the lubricant and added a third finger, stretching him wider than his own slender ones ever had. Reaching deeper than he could from those awkward angles.

“Derek!” Stiles cried out when he massaged that special spot within him.

“One more,” the wolf crooned, pumping faster and spreading his fingers. “Go ahead and come. I want you nice and relaxed for my knot.” Stiles clenched involuntarily at the thought. Right, werewolf. An alpha werewolf. He felt Derek’s pinky enter him and it burned some. “You’re doing so well.”

Propped up a bit on his elbows Stiles rocked his hips, fucking himself back onto Derek’s hand and then forward to rub his dick on the mattress beneath him, moaning. On some of the forward thrusts he ground down in a circular motion for maximum friction. He was so close. Stiles heard the shifter spit and then a hand was sneaking under him to grasp his shaft. He whined, moving faster between the two palms and then he was coming, spasming around the appendages continuing to piston into him.

Mere moments into the afterglow yet another wave of cold and weakness wracked through him and he cried out again, this time in fear, as his upper chest, shoulders, and face hit the mattress. Stiles managed to turn his head to the side.

“Please hurry!”

“Okay, okay,” the wolf soothed, withdrawing fingers from his still clenching hole and shoving a pillow beneath him before shaking more globs of gel out to coat himself. The slick sounds made him flush in anticipation. He felt Derek get into position and the press of his cock against his rim. “Deep breath.”

Stiles did as instructed, bearing down and gasping as the groaning wolf pushed into him steadily until he was all the way in, filling him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Derek hissed, pausing only a few seconds before grabbing him by the waist and beginning to thrust.

“First..time,” he said breathlessly, eyelids fluttering. It felt so good even lying there like a lump on a log, a doll for the werewolf to fuck. Derek growled again, a pleased sound, and Stiles grinned. “Oh, you like hearing that, big guy?”

“Yes,” the shifter answered before mouthing at the back of his neck and then down to his shoulder, fucking him harder. Faster. Stiles really hoped he survived so that he could actually participate next time, but if he was still going to die, well, what a way to go!

“Going to knot you, bite you,” Derek warned a few minutes later.

His cock made a valiant effort, but it was still too soon to harden again. Then the second part of that statement sunk in it and he tensed with worry.

“Not that kind of Bite,” Derek added hastily. “Mating bite. It won’t hurt you.” Stiles sighed in relief. “Well, you know, it’ll probably hurt ‘cause teeth, but—“

“I know what you meant,” he replied with a soft chuckle before gasping again. Stiles could feel the shifter’s cock swelling, spreading him even wider than his palm had. Derek groaned, thrusting in sharp jerks, and draped over him. The pressure was continuing to grow and he whimpered, sensitive, as pleasure teetered on the edge of pain. Then the knot locked inside him and Derek began to howl. Stiles intentionally squeezed around him.

Sharp fangs clamped down between his neck and shoulder and he wailed, overwhelmed as new senses and amplified or mirrored sensations crashed into him. He was stuffed full and enveloped by a tight, hot passage milking him all at once. Power coursed through him, a renewed vigor flooding his veins and refilling his nearly empty well.

When it got to the point of overflowing he looked within and severed the muddy, leeching connection. Stiles made sure to locate and tear out all of its remnants as well, his now red-tinged silver magic immediately rushing in to heal the resultant damage. When he returned to the outside world he was hard again, Derek grinding his still pulsing knot against his prostate, continuing to come with teeth embedded in his flesh.

“It’s done,” he whispered just before a second mind-blowing, mind-melding, orgasm swept through him and he proceeded to pass the fuck out.

When Stiles came to he being was cradled in Derek’s arms and sitting sideways across his lap, the shifter upright on his bed with his back against the wall. As the last images of some truly strange and spectacular dreams slipped away, he yawned and stretched languidly. He was not only alive, but felt good. Stiles wiggled to look into the green eyes of the very awake werewolf.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, choking up. Derek nodded and swallowed thickly himself, taking one of Stiles’ hands in both of his and kissing it.

He noted that he was wearing his light robe and had obviously been cleaned up as he wasn’t sticky or anything after their activities. Stiles blushed at the memory and received a light squeeze on the ass, causing him to make a squeaky sound and redden more.

“So I guess I belong to you now, huh?” he said a few minutes later, curious and a bit uncertain, but not displeased with the situation. The part of him that was stubborn and contrary and so very independent grumbled a bit, but the rest of him was okay with the idea. He didn’t think the wolf would abuse whatever power he now held over him.

“No,” Derek replied, eyes crinkling at the corners. ”We belong to each other.”

“Oh, like family?”

“Yes, family. Mates. Pack.”

Stiles more than liked the sound of that just as he more than liked the werewolf. He was content to remain resting where he was for a while longer despite his not only returned, but increased strength — he’d have to give his new capabilities a whirl later — but felt a bit self-conscious as Derek continued to watch him intently with a serious, vulnerable expression. Gratitude. Reverence. Wonder, the new connection in his mind supplied. How cool was that?

“What?” he finally asked, kissing the wolf’s nose as a strong hand caressed his back. “You look like you’re the one who almost died.”

He said it teasingly, but Derek froze momentarily and then remained suspiciously silent. Stiles’ stomach dropped as his mind sharpened, rising from its nice, floaty haze.

“Derek?” The shifter eventually met his searching eyes. “What would’ve happened to you if I’d died?”

“That close to the formation of the bond? I would’ve followed you,” he answered quietly

Several emotions rushed through him, one after the other, before combining to make him a teary mess. Shock and gratitude for his choice. Anger and sorrow and guilt at the thought of Derek dying with him. For him. Elation that he mattered that much. Stiles swatted the wolf’s shoulder and then pulled him in for a kiss. He was bursting with the desire to express the depth of his feelings, but what came out was something else.

“As soon as I get up I’m sucking your dick, you idiot!” he exclaimed, scowling.

“Uh…is that supposed to be a threat or…?”

Stiles tried to smack him again, but Derek grabbed his hand, laughing.

“I just hate the idea of you risking your life like that. Knowing you could’ve died for me.”

Derek shrugged.

“You saved me. And more than that, you gave me a reason to live. An existence that's about more than mere survival. Kept me from starting to go feral and having to make a choice about that with only three shitty options.” The older man blushed and looked away. “You mean a lot to me. Make me happy, which I no longer thought possible.”

Stiles felt stunned. He also recalled a conversation from a while back about the basics of being a werewolf.

“Am I your anchor?" he asked tentatively. Derek gave him an unimpressed look.

“Obviously.”

"You know, I liked it better when you were all 'Magus this' and 'Master that,'” he glared, crossing his arms.

"No you don't," the shifter replied matter-of-factly.

Stiles groaned in annoyance and Derek smirked. He flopped out of the werewolf’s lap and onto his stomach on the bed, resting his head on his stacked forearms and hiding his face. Moments later he felt a hand petting him on the back of the head before lightly squeezing his neck. Arousal flashed through him and he wiggled a bit, making an embarrassing little noise.

The hand then ran up and down his back and the wolf rumbled possessively, which made Stiles giggle a bit. It wasn't like there was anyone around to witness much less warrant such displays. Their only other companion was a deer and an apparently very straight one at that based on his antics during the last few rutting seasons.

Fingers went back to his neck again, stroking over his bite mark, and Stiles moaned even louder this time.

"Is that an invitation, mate?” Derek asked with a growl in his voice.

“Yes, mate,” he replied, feeling a thrill at saying the word for the first time. He repeated his intention of sucking Derek off, but the stubborn werewolf said he’d made a prior promise. Before long Stiles was a writhing, begging mess and the werewolf was only satisfied once he came untouched from being eaten out alone.

He finally got his mouth on Derek’s cock once he recovered, having him sit up against the wall again, and did his best to get back at him. Stiles experimented with varying maneuvers of his tongue, lips, and hands and after learning some of what the responsive wolf liked most he gleefully teased him until the alpha’s hand shot out to hold his head in place, claws scraping lightly against his scalp. Stiles moaned at the action, his own cock leaking against his belly. Pausing to scent the air and receiving a jerky, eager nod, Derek began to thrust upward into his willing mouth until hot cum was coating his tongue and sliding down his throat.

Interesting, he thought, licking his lips afterward. It was no honey or tree sap, but definitely better than the godforsaken tea he’d been chugging yesterday. He fully intended to acquire a taste for it.

The mated pair spent their days much as they did before, but with the addition of regularly sparring and practicing finding or sneaking up on each other under a wide range of conditions. Not wanting to be at a disadvantage again, Stiles also worked on creating his own offensive spells and was able to make some actually effective defensive charms with his new abilities.

And then there was the sex, of course. The quick and dirty fucking and marathon lovemaking sessions and everything in between. Yeah, okay, so there were some major changes, but the plants in the greenhouse still needed tending and the seeds and nuts still needed grinding for flour and the clothes still needed washing, you know?

They built a larger home for the both of them, referred to as the Den, while maintaining their individual huts for those times when they needed space or simply wanted to work on something without disturbing the other. They also built a cob oven outside so they could bake crackers and dense, crumbly breads and granola from the dock seed, acorns, etc, instead of mostly using them to bulk up soups and stews, as breading, or to make a kind of gruel.

Larem finally got used to Derek even in his wolf form, the two of them actually cuddling together on occasion.

“I’m a disgrace to wolves,” the shifter muttered after the first time it happened.

“A very adorable disgrace,” Stiles said, attempting to console him before bursting into giggles.

“Just don’t befriend any boars or game birds,” Derek growled, glaring and wagging a finger.

Summer slid into autumn and when Stiles came across a huge beehive nestled inside a tree trunk he was over the moon. Sap was just fine, but the converted nectar was on a whole other level and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with most of his bounty. After returning with the necessary supplies he smoked the bees out and used his power to keep any stragglers from reaching him, taking care to make sure the hive remained habitable and the queen unharmed. Stiles collected nearly 25 pounds of honey, leaving more than enough for the bees to get through the winter.

Over the years he’d tried fermenting various things, sometimes doing so unintentionally as well, with a wide range of results. He kept about a third of the honey for sweetening and the rest he used to make a handful of different one gallon batches of mead. The glass containers were left to gather wild yeast, stoppered with airlocks, and then placed in a warm, dark place to do their thing with periodic tending.

Derek told him that he had no idea what day it was or even what month it was for sure, but that fall always reminded him of his family who’d made a big deal of the harvest celebrations between the equinox and the following full moon. Stiles had stopped paying attention to dates too for the most part, but was in the habit of marking a daily tally and so had the means of figuring it out if he so cared to. He later informed his wolf that it was September 27th.

Derek mentioned some other meaningful days from his past, including his birthday, which was on Christmas Day. Curious, his mate then asked when his birthday was and Stiles told him that it was April 8th, a couple months after they first met and a month or so before they got together. Derek frowned and said that he wish he’d known.

“Well my half birthday is coming up soon,” he replied, grinning.

Derek rolled his eyes, but prepared Stiles’ favorite meal for the event — roasted garlic and rosemary wild boar with honeyed parsnips — and worshipped his body all night, knotting him twice.

By the time Derek Day came around (Christmas was hard for both of them, especially Stiles, but Derek’s birthday they could do) most of the mead had been racked and was either aging or in secondary fermentation based on the alcohol content he was going for or the resiliency of the yeast. The rest they had already drank young.

All of it served its basic purpose of getting him tipsy (or more) and was drinkable at the least, but the blackberry melomel and the meadowsweet and dandelion petal metheglin were truly delicious. He gave a couple bottles of each to Derek as the first part of his 26th birthday gift. The wolf might not be able to get drunk, which Stiles vowed to remedy that one day, but he could enjoy the complex beverages all the same, sweet and semi-sweet respectively.

The second part of his gift was a rich cake-like dessert made with acorn flour, water, honey, boar grease, the last of the duck eggs from his new and improved preservation cooler, vanilla leaf, lavender, and salt, and baked in the cob oven. The third part was simply his mouth and ass, Stiles wearing a bow and everything. (Two bows actually, one around his neck and the other around his waist, made from berry-dyed woven foliage and scraps of fabric.)

On New Years Day he hitched the sled up to Larem once more to go exploring, but this time a massive black wolf trotted along side or ranged ahead to circle back around protectively. Another 5 weeks would mark a year since that fateful afternoon when his tiny world of two began to become a fuller, happier three. Brought him a companion who became a true friend and then even more. A mate.

They stopped to eat lunch near an unfamiliar river — he marked its location on his map and made a note to return and try fishing when it was warmer — and Derek shifted back, pulling on the thick, winter clothing Stiles had packed for him. He unfolded a small metal tripod with a hook and set his small cookpot on it, filling it with the leftovers of last night’s 3 meat and mushroom stew before placing kindling and dry chunks of wood underneath it to start a fire.

They sat on the sled and when their meal was bubbling nicely Stiles took some hay from a side bag, tossing it and a handful of acorns to the buck, and then ladled the stew into bowls. Two cups for him and three for the always hungrier wolf. They now had 10 fine spoons thanks to Derek’s superior wood-carving skills: the ladle, 3 other cooking/serving spoons, and 3 pairs for eating in different sizes. Afterwards he brought out an apple for each of them as well.

Derek watched as Larem happily munched on his and then turned to Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“You know, you never did tell me exactly how you ended up with him.”

“Huh, I guess not,” Stiles muttered, thinking back as the shifter took a bite of fruit. “I found him a few months after I came out here, around the end of fall four years ago. He would’ve been around 2 1/2 then and one of his back legs had gotten broken somehow. I don’t know whether he was still with his mother’s herd or with a young bachelor’s group until then and got left behind or if he’d been already going solo, but at any rate, he was alone and leaning against a tree. Larem was able to move around, but it was doubtful that he could cover enough ground to feed himself properly, especially with winter coming, and he definitely couldn’t flee from any predators.”

Derek grunted in acknowledgment, tearing a huge chunk out of his apple.

“I considered eating him of course, but he was just so defenseless and looked at me with his big, curious eyes — he’d probably never seen a human before — and I just couldn’t do it. Besides I was lonely and rather bored and figured he might be a good project whether just in the short term or something ongoing.

“I had a ton of apples from some trees I harvested a few weeks before and had brought several with me, so I threw him a couple before approaching. He seemed fairly trusting or at least hungry enough to override his fear and while he focused on a third one in my hand I got close and used my magic to make him unconscious so I could work on his leg. I set the bone as best I could and was able to speed the healing along just enough for it to hold if he bore weight on it. When he woke up he seemed pretty confused, but snapped out of it once I gave him the apple.”

Stiles looked over to see Larem eyeing the red and green fruit he was currently holding and chuckled. He took out his knife and cut half of it into slices, tossing one to the buck.

“I got him to follow me home like this, giving him pieces of another three apples and eating one myself. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away. I had some hay and other dried plant stuff meant for mulch and more apples of course, so he hung around.

“I brought rope with me when I moved out here as well; it took two long, slow and heavy trips before I had everything I wanted and where we live is a good ways further than my original shelter at the time. I can make bark cordage now, but frankly the synthetic stuff is stronger so it’s good that I had it. Anyway, I fashioned a harness and lead from some of it and decided I would keep him unless he truly seemed unhappy. I thought I might be able to train him to carry bags or drag stuff for me and, well, the rest” — he finished with a dramatic flourish — “is history!”

Derek appeared suitably impressed with him and he smiled, throwing the rest of the slices to Larem.

“I’m pretty sure he kept me from going crazy too,” he added, biting into the remaining half apple. Derek gave him a look that said he wasn’t too sure about that and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“And then you found me,” his mate said, eyes still sparkling with amusement.

“Mmhmm,” Stiles hummed, nodding before swallowing his mouthful. “Three second chance strays: human, werewolf, and hart. Well, Larem was too young be a proper hart then, but he’s one now.” He gestured to the 6.5 year old buck. “It’s a much cooler term for you, right?”

Larem looked at him blankly and then snorted, turning and lying down on the patch of snow free ground under a tree now that food time was over. Derek laughed, leaning over to kiss him, and they fell back onto the sled. It was too cold to want to get naked out here, but he let his his knees fall open so that the alpha could lie between them and he could wrap his legs around him. They made out for a while, kissing and rubbing against each other through their layers.

Stiles didn’t know what the future held; whether they would just stay out here until death did them part or if they would venture back to civilization at some point either to stay or just occasionally to procure the stuff they really couldn’t get in the wild. Things made from metal and books and certain spices and medicines. Other company perhaps, strange as it now seemed.

Soft fabrics, at least for undergarments, when their clothes eventually wore down completely and couldn’t be patched or sewn together into more shirts or pants or briefs with other usable scraps. He could make thread from nettles and other plant fibers, but it was very labor intensive to do garments from scratch, not to mention, well, scratchy. All leather all the time would be a bit much as well, especially in the warmer months, but Derek could certainly rock the look and took to making it from his larger kills.

What Stiles did know is that they’d all saved each other and that he’d follow his mate anywhere. Based on the glint in the werewolf’s now red-ringed eyes and the love and arousal coursing down his bond that meant straight back to the Den to roll around naked. They hastily repacked their things and hitched the sled up to the annoyed deer, promising him additional, rarer goodies upon their return for interrupting his nap.

“Let’s go home!” he cried, getting into position and signaling for Larem to move. A loud, sustained howl was let loose just ahead and Stiles grinned into the cold air rushing by with a heart full of warmth.

Larem. About to lose his antlers, sick of your shit.

#sterek #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #sterek fanfic #sterek & stuff events #mead moons #mead moons 21 #mead moons becomes #mead moons buck #mead moons claiming #mead moons hay #mead moons herbs #mead moons mead #sterekweeklyexplore #sterekweekly #mead moons trisk

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galaxystiel · 2 years ago

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put up your hands (say i don’t wanna be in love)

Written for @sterekweekly for the prompt ‘midnight’.

Summary: Stiles had even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he? Teen | 2.3k

[Read on AO3]

Stiles counted along with the clock, the second hand ticking ever closer to twelve. Five, four, three, two…

Midnight.

Dinner had gone cold hours ago, the remains of his mom’s lasagna a congealed mess in the dish at the centre of their table. Small, battery-operated tea lights that were barely aglow now. Pinpricks of light, like little fireflies surrounding a failed disaster of a dinner date. While Derek had never said anything about a disdain for open flames indoors, Stiles had thought it was better safe than sorry, and this was a nice compromise. Romantic atmosphere without the fire hazard or a mess of molten wax.

He’d even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he?

But Derek hadn’t come home at all.

Stiles finally dragged his eyes away from the clock and let his shoulders slump. He wasn’t angry. It wasn’t fair to blame Derek for being busy at work. It’s not like Stiles had told him that he was going to try and do something special. Although Derek had promised he’d be home for dinner.

It wasn’t a lie, Stiles told himself. Derek had obviously intended to come home on time. Something must have just come up. Something so clearly important that meant he couldn’t even call. Right? Right.

He wasn’t angry. He was just tired and a little bit humiliated. Clearly, he’d put a little more—not value, that wasn’t the right word, he knew Derek valued him—sentiment, yeah, behind their anniversary than was reciprocated. Which was, not fine, not even expected but it was… yeah. It was what it was.

Something ached deep in Stiles’ chest and the chair scraped back against the floor as he scooped up all of the tea lights in hands that were totally not shaking, fingers that were absolutely, completely steady as he found their off switches. He tossed them in the trash can and then, upon thinking about Derek potentially finding them, crumpled a few paper towels and stuffed them on top.

Dessert was still in the fridge and the lasagna joined it, carefully wrapped in foil. No point in letting it go to waste, maybe Derek could take it to the station tomorrow and share it with the Sheriff. It wasn’t the healthiest of meals, but hey, his dad was allowed a cheat day every now and then, particularly when his son was suffering from a broken heart.

“Okay, enough,” Stiles muttered, waggling his fingers in front of his face. Broken heart, seriously? “You’re being pathetic, Stiles. It’s just freakin’ dinner. Derek loves you the other three hundred sixty four days of the year. There shouldn’t be anything important about this one.”

Except, there kinda was? This marked a year to the day they’d first admitted how great they could be together, and put their absolute trust in each other as their relationship had taken the next step. Stiles had just wanted to commemorate that. Even just seeing Derek for more than the ten minutes they’d overlapped at breakfast, before Derek’s shift started. He refused to feel bad that he wanted a little more than that, just for today.

Weariness took over, and Stiles abandoned his cleaning up of the kitchen in favour of making his way to the bed he and Derek had shared for six months now. He stopped abruptly in the doorway and swayed, looking at the rumpled sheets and feeling his lip quiver. Suddenly, the thought of spending the night in their bed alone seemed like the most awful thing he could imagine. A shaky exhale left his lips, and then Stiles turned abruptly on his heel, bounding back down the stairs and snatching his keys from the sea glass bowl near the front door.

Roscoe seemed to know he wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight, engine roaring to life at the simple flick of his wrist. He drove, trying to force the buzzing thoughts in his head to quieten down as he followed the trail of street lamps. Even under their glow, the world looked awash with grey. Colourless, lifeless, numb.

Stiles kind of knew the feeling.

He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but when he found himself idling outside of his childhood home, he supposed he’d probably known where he was heading the whole time. The sight of the cruiser was both welcome and unwelcome, and Stiles rested his head against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

When he let himself in with a key he barely used anymore, he was greeted with the sight of his dad halfway out of the living room, summoned by the sound of the door.

“Stiles? It’s almost one in the morning, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Dad,” Stiles choked, and then he was falling forward into strong arms, and tears were stinging his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall, he wouldn’t cry. Not over this. He inhaled, long fingers grasping the back of his dad’s shirt, holding him tightly.

Distantly, Stiles registered that if his dad was still in uniform, he couldn’t have been home long. His theory had been right. Something had cropped up on duty that kept both his dad and Derek later than planned. Usually, he’d be bugging one of them to find out what happened, but right now Stiles didn’t care. Because he realized that if his dad was home, Derek was probably on his way too, and would discover Stiles’ absence at any moment.

“Can I just stay here tonight? Please?” He hated how soft and pleading his voice came out. Hated that he couldn’t handle this like an adult and face his problems head on.

But his dad held him just that little bit tighter and Stiles could have wept with relief.

“Of course you can, son, you never have to ask. Didn’t take your key, did I? The bed’s always made up for you.” He pulled back and his face went through three different expressions of reluctance before he asked, “You break up with Derek?”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat, and the words came out thickly. “No.” He shook his head. “No, of course not. I just—can we not do this now, dad? Can’t it be enough that I’m mad at him right now and I want to stay here tonight?”

“Of course it can. Go on, get some sleep, kid.”

Stiles mumbled something that was both thanks and a goodnight and trudged his way up the stairs. The sheets didn’t smell right, now he’d gotten used to the unscented fabric softener that Derek preferred, and they were a little musty from disuse. That, together with the rampant emotions thrumming in every part of his chest, suggested that sleep would be a long time coming.

But almost as soon as Stiles closed his eyes, the world faded to nothing.

* * *

He wasn’t sure what woke him up.

It was still dark, so he hadn’t been asleep long. There was no clock by his bedside anymore, a reminder that this familiar bed wasn’t where he should be waking up.

His eyes flicked to the window out of habit, and he watched as it began to close, slowly and silently. Stiles squinted blearily into the darkness, but he couldn’t make out anything more than a shadow outside his window. But that was enough.

“Derek,” he whispered. The window stopped moving, little more than three inches between the sash and the sill. The silence was deafening, and for a moment Stiles held his breath, wondering if a reply would come at all.

“I was just making sure you were here.” Derek’s voice was quiet, and Stiles couldn’t even convince himself that it was out of consideration for the late hour. Even beyond that, he could hear the misery in every syllable. “You weren’t supposed to wake up. I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I—I just needed to know you were somewhere safe.”

Stiles sat up, wrapped the top blanket around himself and shuffled over to the window. He didn’t open it, just sat on the floor, his cheek pressed to the jamb. He could feel the light presence of air drifting through the gap. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Stiles shivered anyway.

“I should have left a note,” he said eventually. “It wasn’t my intention to make you worry.”

The reply that came was filled with bitterness and self-loathing. “I could say the same. I should have called. I should have been home,” Derek corrected himself. “I saw—I found—I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t heal the wounds the evening had left deep within Stiles’ chest, but they were a stepping stone. This was Derek reaching out, and now it was up to Stiles to meet him halfway. He reached up, fingers scrabbling as he pushed the window upwards, opening it fully. His motions were far less quiet than Derek’s, but he didn’t care.

He shuffled back as one leg stepped inside the window, followed by another, and then Derek’s head ducked through. His face was drawn, visible even when half-shrouded in shadow. There was tension in every line of his body and he made no move to enter the room further, just hovered by the window as if he would be made to leave at any moment.

And hell if that didn’t sweep the air from Stiles’ lungs. After all this time, Derek should never be unsure of his welcome. Not with him.

His fingers curled into the knee of Derek’s grey sweatpants and he tugged lightly enough to make his point clear. He acquiesced instantly, legs folding beneath him as they both settled on the floor. Even though Derek didn’t need it, Stiles loosened his grip on the blanket and haphazardly threw a corner around Derek’s shoulders.

“I didn’t forget.” When Stiles looked nonplussed, Derek clarified, “The date. I know you think I did, but you’re wrong. There’s a card in the Camaro. It has a stupid pun on it. I thought it would make you laugh.”

It probably would have. Stiles would have been delighted at Derek’s attempt at humour. He would have probably had it framed, to hang in their bedroom for years to come.

“That helps,” Stiles admitted. “But it doesn’t make everything better. I felt, no, I feel like an idiot for caring so much about this. And it’s ridiculous because I knew who you were when we got together. I didn’t expect rose petals and candles and slow dancing. I just wanted to see you.”

Silence. Stiles knew he’d somehow said the wrong thing because he could feel the sadness rolling off Derek in waves.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

Stiles’ hand flew out and he flicked on the lamp. When his eyes recovered from the sudden flare of brightness, he squinted at Derek. “Are you actually pouting right now?”

“No.” Derek raised his eyes to the ceiling petulantly, pursing his lips.

Stiles barked out a laugh and poked Derek in the bicep. “You are totally pouting. What did I say? Tell me. You know I won’t quit until you do.”

“I could do all of that if that’s what you wanted,” Derek ground out with no small amount of reluctance. “It doesn’t make me feel good when you say you don’t expect me to do the whole romance thing.”

“You literally just called it ‘the whole romance thing’, dude, that doesn’t instil hope. And given that I can’t even get you to show up for dinner when you agreed to it, why would I hold my breath for wooing?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue, his hands curling into fists as he turned his guilt-ridden face away. Stiles closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. And I didn’t mean it, really I didn’t. I’m just lashing out because I’m embarrassed. You know you romanced the hell out of me when we started dating. That wasn’t what I meant. I was trying to express that I didn’t expect our anniversary to be a huge deal in general. I just wanted to acknowledge that it happened, because it was the day the world gave me you.”

Derek swallowed, and Stiles watched as the tension unfurled from his body. He idly picked at a stray string at the hem of his sweatpants, before clumsy fingers reached out and curled over Stiles’. A peace offering, a gesture of forgiveness and a request for forgiveness of his own at the same time.

Stiles threaded their fingers together and held on tightly.

“You already had me,” Derek said. He rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. “Fate or the universe or anything else had no part in it. I do like knowing that’s how you see it, though.”

“How do you see it?”

“I remember it as the day I realized that you were going to keep fighting at my side like you belonged there, and it first occurred to me that you did.”

The threat of tears stung Stiles’ eyes, and he raised their joined hands together to lightly brush his lips over the back of Derek’s hand.

“I love you.”

“Yes,” Derek said, then cautiously added, “Does that mean you’ll come home?”

Stiles nodded, and pressed his forehead to Derek’s shoulder, basking in the warmth. “I was always coming home.” He cast a look over his shoulder at his childhood bed and sighed. “I’m not waking my dad up after his late night. You’ll have to squeeze in beside me and suffer in a single bed for one night.”

The smile that spread over Derek’s face was fond, genuine. Its sudden appearance made the ache in Stiles’ chest finally settle, even as his heart betrayed him and embarrassingly skipped a beat. He flushed, not even needing to look at Derek to know he’d heard it and the smile was widening into a dumb grin.

“Stupid werewolf hearing,” Stiles huffed and slid back into his bed, making space for Derek to join him. “Get in the bed before I change my mind. And you’re buying me a nice dinner tomorrow. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about my card, I want my dumb punny card, Derek.”

Derek kicked off his shoes, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around Stiles. Stiles wriggled closer, sighing as Derek pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, and then nuzzled the same spot sweetly.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

If you liked it, please consider leaving me a comment or kudos on AO3, or reblogging here!

#sterekweekly #sterekweeklymidnight #sterek #teen wolf #thebatsquad #I have no idea how to tag things for this fandom #but here I wrote something have it

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karlakattz · 2 years ago

Text

Written for @sterekweekly #explore

Or read here:

He mouthed along the jawline, eyes closed, his entire focus on the feeling of the beard making his lips tingle and tickling his skin. When he reached the ear, he took a moment, pressed a featherlight kiss on the earlobe and let out a soft exhale. The shudder he got was the response he aimed for and he smiled to himself.

Stiles slowly shifted further down, making a stop at the neck next. The werewolf underneath him trembled as he nuzzled the sensitive area between ear and collarbone. He pressed his lips down and gently sucked, regretting that no matter how many hickeys he'd produce, none of them would stay to mark what was his.

Despite not being a wolf, Stiles was nearly as obsessed with smells as his boyfriend, and he took his sweet time of sniffing, licking and biting where he knew it'd drive his mate crazy.

Stiles was in no rush on this Sunday morning, although the sun was already high in the sky, shining through the blind windows of the loft.

Both men slept in late, exhausted after yesterday's fateful events.

The pack had been to Deaton's Den, a werewolf-friendly club on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Although, considering the music being not that loud and the lack of flashing strobe lights to protect sensitive supernatural ears and eyes, it probably could be classified more as a pub than a club. It had been just like any other random Saturday night until one asshole hadn't taken Stiles' explicit 'no' for a no. He'd rather not think about what might have happened if Derek hadn't ripped the toilet cabin door off its hinges and stormed in like berserk, eyes red and beta shifted.

Stiles recalled the talk that had followed, a long overdue conversation where they finally admitted their feelings. In the john of Deaton's club of all places. Not quite the romantic scenery Stiles had dreamt of for years, but as soon as Derek had kissed him, the surroundings had become nonrelevant anyway.

They had spent the night together and with every caress, Derek had erased the touch of the other wolf. He was just so Derek in the best possible way. Possessive and yet careful, rough but also sweet and loving. It was the best sex Stiles ever had. Not that there was a long list of ex-lovers, but he was certain it couldn't get any better than that.

Except, it had been all about Stiles and now it was his turn to give everything back to his wolf. Finally, he got to worship that glorious body as it should be.

He squeezed those perfectly shaped pecs and stroked with his fingertips through the hair. Derek stiffened ever so slightly underneath him but made no move to stop him, so Stiles went on by kissing down to the chest, rubbing his nose through the black curls, trailing sweet pecks to the left nipple, where he gently nibbled the bud before he latched on and sucked.

His hands found their way up to the shoulders, relishing how broad, strong and toned they were. The biceps were next. So thick that Stiles would need both hands to wrap his fingers around them. Jesus Christ. They weren't just a show-off of Derek's strength. They were visible proof of his commitment to his alpha role, his dedication to protecting his pack, and his determination to push himself further every day. Stiles has never met anyone with more self-discipline than Derek.

His forearms told a different story, his wrists especially. They were delicate, just a little thicker than Stiles', and he couldn't help but think how that contrast was almost like an analogy for the man itself. Because Derek was more than just a mindless muscled hunk, and no matter how hard he tried to hide his sensitive side behind a wall of wit, sarcasm and rudeness, the pack knew better. They had seen him.

Stiles had seen him.

It's why he loved him.

That Derek's personality came in the form of a Greek God was just the best bonus. Well, Stiles surely won't complain about that.

He let go of the nipple and laid his head on the chest to listen to the heartbeat. Stiles' hands found Derek's and he intertwined their fingers, thumbs stroking lovingly over the back of his mates' hands. He felt hairs there, too, a soft down, and he smiled to himself.

With his eyes still closed, he just basked in the sunlight, warming his skin. And with the hot running werewolf underneath him, Stiles went lax. Yeah, he thought, this had to be the best place in the whole world right now.

After a moment of peaceful silence, he shifted and wanted to continue his exploration of Derek's body.

He buried his nose in the soft chest hair again and trailed slowly down south, making sure to tickle his wolf with his breath to make him squirm. The tiny sounds he got in return were beautiful.

The defined abs received some extra smooches before Stiles' tongue poked playfully into Derek's belly button. He felt the alpha dick twitching and Stiles glanced at it, seeing it hardening, and his mouth watered. He had always assumed Derek was big down there, but Jesus Christ. His still sore hole reminded him of how big his boyfriend was. Last night, he hadn't gotten a good look, but he certainly had felt every inch. Now though, he could finally get his visual fill of what had been the main star of his long-lasting fantasies.

Stiles couldn‘t wait to suck Derek off.

Until now, sex hadn't been the purpose of his caress. It had been more of a taking in, mapping out. Feeling. Reassuring himself that this was happening, that he and Derek were together. As, like, a couple. Who did couply things like lazing around in bed on a Sunday morning and rubbing their naked bodies against each other.

Now that he saw Derek getting hard, he smelled his heady scent of growing arousal and also the remains of last night's jizz which they only wiped away with Derek's undershirt in post-coital bliss... now Stiles wanted more.

Fuck, that thick cock and the heavy balls, framed by a wild patch of black hairs, were like a piece of art.

He let go of Derek's hands and shuffled on all fours to get in a better position.

"You don't have to," cut Derek's voice through his thoughts.

He sounded tense, and Stiles' dreamy bubble burst with one heartbeat. He blinker and looked up to check in with his mate, expecting to meet warm green-hazel eyes, but Derek stared at the ceiling instead.

He seemed uncomfortable.

From one second to another, Stiles' insecurities kicked in because all the time he had thought, Derek would enjoy this just as much as he did, but that was not the case.

"You don't want me to?" he blurted out and hated how unsure he sounded.

Maybe Derek had second thoughts. Maybe Derek regretted last night's actions. Maybe he wanted to go back to being just friends.

Stiles couldn't do that. It wasn't an option for him. Not after last night.

It'd crush him. The mere thought of it made his stomach churn.

Derek lifted his head and finally looked at him. "Don't be daft, idiot!" he said, almost annoyed, and Stiles wanted to sob in relief.

Never had he been happier to get insulted.

"Course I want it." Derek hesitated and bit his lip. His head flopped back on the pillow and he let out a sigh. "I'm just too lazy to get up."

Stiles tilted his head and frowned. "Get up?" Had he missed something?

"You know to..." Derek flailed his arms in the general direction of his crotch.

The frown on Stiles' forehead deepened. "No?" he said carefully. "I don't know, actually?" He peered at the cock, wondering what Derek meant.

"Get ready!" the wolf finally spit out, exasperated.

Oh?

Oh.

"Oh," Stiles said intelligently and his body went burning hot in one second. "Hey, yeah, okay. I just wanted to blow you, dude, but if you want anal, yep, that's fine, Mini-Me is totally up for that, too." Derek abruptly sat up, while Stiles went on rambling. "I didn't know you'd bottom, what with the alpha thing and all, but fucking hell, yeah. Okay. Fair warning though, this might be just a quickie because, Jesus, have you seen your ass..." Stiles shook his head and sucked in a breath, leaking precum from just the sheer imagination of fucking Derek. Fucking hell. "God, I dunno how long I can hold back-"

Derek slammed a hand right across Stiles' mouth and everything he wanted to add ended in a muffled noise. They stared at each other with wide eyes.

"First of all," Derek said and raised his pointer. "Don't call me dude. Especially not when you're talking about us having sex. What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles." His eyebrows underlined the seriousness of his words.

Stiles nodded frantically. He totally could do that. There were better pet names available anyway like Boo-Boo or-

"Second," Derek interrupted his train of thought and slowly released Stiles' mouth from his grip. "I didn't mean get ready for anal." He gave Stiles a stern look, and just hearing the word anal coming out of Derek Hale's mouth, made Stiles giggle.

"What did you mean then?"

That uncomfortable expression was back on the wolf‘s face. He pulled a face as if he had licked a lemon. "You know, like, shaving."

Stiles stared at him, dumbfounded. "Okay, but you don't have to." He briefly looked down at Derek's now flaccid dick and the bush of dark curls. "If it makes you feel better then yeah, I understand, but you really don't have to because of me."

"You don't mind?!" Derek sounded surprised.

"Uh, no?" Stiles smiled at him. "I like your hot, sexy wolfy body just like it is."

Something, an emotion Stiles couldn't place, flashed over Derek's face before he shifted his expression to neutral again. And then he quickly turned away, averting Stiles' eye.

That's when the penny dropped. "Oh my God, someone said something to you in the past, didn't they?" As soon as he said the words out loud, he was sure he was right.

Stiles had a good guess of which of the three girlfriends would be the one who gave Derek the complex about his hair. He didn't say her name out loud, it wasn't necessary. Fuck, did he hate her so much right now.

He put his hand on Derek's jaw and gently turned his head back to look at him. The wolf's face was stoic as ever, but his eyes betrayed him. "I'm not her, Der." Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly. "I love you, everything of you."

Derek's breath hitched.

"Too early?" Stiles bit his lip.

Damn, they only got together about 9 hours ago. But still, it felt right. Stiles loved Derek for fucking years.

"Stiles." Derek looked like he wanted to say more, but nothing came out of his mouth and he looked almost pained. Instead, a low whine escaped his throat.

Stiles rested his forehead against his boyfriend's. "It's okay," he whispered, and he truly meant it. "Can we go back to where I tried to make you feel good?" he asked seductively. "Let me show you, how much I love your body?" He pulled back, wriggled his eyebrows and started grinning.

Derek snorted. God, Stiles loved the sound of his laugh, loved how Derek closed his eyes briefly, scrunched his nose and showed his bunny teeth. He'd make Derek laugh a lot more in the future, Stiles secretly vowed to himself.

Stiles did show Derek how much he loved his body.

Twice.

Derek let Stiles top a week later. It was the first time he bottomed. Both weren't virgins by any means, but so many things they were about to explore together.

#sterek #sterekweekly #sterekweeklyexplore #fanfic

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sterekfests · 6 months ago

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Welcome to our Winter round of Sterek Fests! Sterek Winter Fest will run from December 1st - January 4th in celebration of Winter. Whether you enjoy the cold weather, the holiday season, or just the general cozy vibes of the season, there’s a little something for everyone!

Check out our Rules and FAQs.

We also have a Discord you can join that has events running, such as @sterekbingo and @sterekweekly.

How to Participate:

Participating in Sterek Winter Fests is easy and stress-free! This is a no-commitment fest where you can participate as little or as much as you want. Participate in one week and none of the others if you so fancy, or participate in all of them! We have an AO3 Collection for you to post all of your creations in! This fest is open to both Fic and Art, so create to your heart's content!

How to post:

You can post your creations to any website that you want, as long as they are viewable to the public, whether that’s Tumblr, LiveJournal, DreamWidth, or our AO3 Collection. @sterekfests so we see your creations to reblog them. Use the tags #sterekfestswinter2024, and #sterekfests for generic tags. For weekly tags: #sterekfestswinter, #sterekfestssocial, #sterekfestsbakeoff, #sterekfestsfireside, #sterekfestschampagne

Late Posting:

Late posting is always welcomed! The collection will stay open for late submissions. If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask!

- Liam (@sterekbros) & Dori (@evanesdust)

December 1 - December 7: Winter Adventure December 8 - December 14: Snow Social December 15 - December 21: Winter Bake Off December 22 - December 28: Fireside or Flannel December 29 - January 4: Glitter, Gold, and Champagne

@thebigbangblogproject @sterekevents @teenwolffandomevents @imagine-sterek @feedthefandomfest

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sterekbigbang · 1 year ago

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And that's a wrap for Round 6 of SBB!

Thank you to everyone (all 46 of you) that participated in this round! Even if you didn't complete a story this round or create art, I hope to see you again for the next round! We had great writers and artists for the event and I'm excited to see all of the Sterek art and fics!

We will start Round 7 in a few months. The schedule is already up on our schedule page, but a post will go up soon if anyone wants to reblog it. Check back August 1st for signups!

If you're interested in more events and our upcoming Sterek Fanzine, make sure you follow @sterekeverlasting @sterek-exchange @sterekweekly and @sterekevents! There is also @sterekbingo and the current Spring @sterekfests!

Don't forget to check out all the fic and art by these awesome people again!

forever and then some by EvanesDust, art by alicetallula Rewrite The Stars by Winchesterek, art by EvanesDust & kelestialart House of the Howling Wolves by rlnerdgirl, art by renmackree A sacrilege to keep it a secret by babisays, art by CelilaArt, Echaris, & MindOfMim cheer up, babe by graveltotempo, art by springlockedspectre Power of a Name by MadMim, art by eevylynn

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sterek-ao3feed · 9 months ago

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Home Among the Pines

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/58600831

by simplyn2deep

Derek takes Stiles to a special place

Words: 1133, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 32 of Shots of Sterek

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Tumblr: sterekweekly, sterekweeklycabin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58600831

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #ao3feed Sterek #ao3feed #fanfic

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sterek-ao3feed-archive · 2 years ago

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like in your eyes i see my future in an instant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50124421 by EvanesDust …the one where Derek caught Stiles wearing his sweater. Words: 1190, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of i knew i loved you, Part 9 of SterekFests, Part 17 of SterekWeekly Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Alpha Derek Hale, Fluff, sterekfestssweater, sterekweekly - stamp read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50124421

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #IFTTT #ao3feed #ao3feed Sterek #fanfic

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just-another-busy-fangirl-writes · 2 years ago

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The Cool Alumni

Summary: Stiles can't find his lacrosse sweatshirt to wear to the lacrosse game and his ten-year reunion celebration. Derek finds him something else appropriate to wear.

Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, High School Reunion, Traditions, Cheesy

Pairing: Sterek

Rating: teen

Word Count: 1579

For @sterekweekly prompt Threshold, @sterekbingo, prompt High School Reunion, and @sterekfests Fall Fest, week of Sept 3-9, prompt Sweater Weather.

Read it on AO3!

#sterekweeklythreshold #sterekbingo #sterekfests #sterekfestssweater #sterekfestsfall2023 #teen wolf

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sterekweekly · 20 days ago

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Sterek Weekly Word Prompt: Calm

Reblog the prompt to sign-up at any time during the week. Prompts will post on Monday and all prompts should be completed by Sunday morning.

Tag your work #sterekweekly(word) for us to find you in the tags to reblog your work. Make sure to at @sterekweekly when you post!

Art and Fic accepted! Only Sterek! Add your submissions to the A03 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sterekweekly

***

Example:

Ficlet For @sterekweekly word prompt #sterekweeklycalm

#sterekweekly #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterekevents #sterek event

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sterekbros · 2 years ago

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for the rest of our lives (1958 words) by Winchesterek Rating: Explicit Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Derek Hale, Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Knotting, Barebacking, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Slice of Life Series: Part 6 of Laughter Lines For: @sterekweekly momentous and @sterekfests theme sweater weather. And @warmandfluffybingocards square morning cuddles.

Stiles shivered as the cool air licked at his skin, a smile spreading across his lips as he felt the heat against his side. He rolled over and snuggled into it, firm muscles and soft hair reminding him that he was with Derek and they had come back to Virginia. They’d spent a year traveling the world and Stiles hadn't returned yet to the FBI. At this point, he thought he never would. They’d found a nice place in rural Virginia just in case he decided to try to go back to work, but it hadn't even occurred to Stiles to call his boss and ask for his job back. His leave was long over and he was sure someone else had his job by now. It was a momentous decision.

His fingers trailed along Derek’s chest, tracing absent symbols against his skin. They’d grown so much together over the last year; their matebond was stronger than it ever had been before. There was a strength and surety he could feel in the bond, like their love was a rock that couldn't be broken, no matter what people thought of them.

Stiles smiled and turned his face to press kisses against Derek’s chest, feeling when Derek started to wake because the arm wrapped around Stiles curled more around him and Derek’s fingers started running along his back lazily.

“Good morning,” he breathed against Derek’s skin. Derek grumbled and Stiles chuckled, teasing his tongue over Derek’s nipple.

“You’re a menace,” Derek said with a gasp, his hand moving to cup the back of Stiles’ head. Stiles grinned, giving Derek’s nipple one more teasing suck before he turned up to capture Derek’s lips in a kiss.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning up just enough on his elbow to give Derek a more thorough kiss.

“Hey,” Derek replied, brushing his nose against Stiles’.

Stiles knew it was one of the things they did and he wasn't sure how they’d gotten started with the whole ‘hey’ ‘hey’ echoed response, but Stiles loved it. It was something so simple and intimate, like a secret all their own.

“How’d you sleep?” Stiles asked, just studying Derek like he’d never be able to get enough of him. And he never would. Stiles knew that.

“Perfect, with you in my arms,” Derek replied with a smile spreading across his lips.

Stiles laughed and smacked Derek in the chest. “You’re such a sap!”

“What, it’s true!” Derek added with a laugh of his own, grabbing Stiles’ hand on his chest.

Derek captured Stiles’ lips in another kiss, even as Stiles was still laughing into the kiss. But he wrapped his arms around Derek and rolled over onto his back, dragging Derek on top of him.

“I love you,” Stiles said softly, his fingers threading through Derek’s hair.

“I love you too, so much,” Derek replied, kissing Stiles again, deeper this time.

Stiles moaned softly, spreading his thighs to make room for Derek between them. He could already feel Derek’s dick pressing against his hip, hard and demanding, Stiles’ cock already half-hard itself. He hooked his calf around the back of Derek’s thigh as Derek rocked against him.

“Why did we sleep with clothes on?” Derek muttered against Stiles’ lips, his hands already moving to push at the waist of Stiles’ sweatpants.

“Because it’s getting cooler and I move around too much at night to sleep naked,” Stiles replied with a chuckle. “I get cold when I roll away from you.”

Plus, Stiles was used to sleeping with his clothes on. It was something he’d picked up over the last twenty years, always ready to fight… always reaching for his gun, which was something that was hard for him to break over the last year during their travels.

“No clothes,” Derek growled as he pushed Stiles’ sweatpants the rest of the way down so Stiles could kick them away. “We’ll raise the heat.”

Stiles was laughing softly still as they continued to kiss.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles breathed, his hands moving to push Derek’s sweatpants off his hips, working them down until he could use his long legs to strip Derek out of them. Derek broke their kiss long enough to yank Stiles’ shirt off and then crushed their lips together again.

Stiles moaned, rolling his hips against Derek, chasing the friction he badly needed as he felt Derek’s dick slide against his. He broke from the kiss, tilting his chin up and Derek wasted no time in dropping kisses and bites to his neck that shot straight to Stiles’ dick.

God, when Derek left marks on his neck it made his dick ache and leak, even though he already had a matebond. Having everyone being able to see that he belonged to Derek did things to Stiles. He loved it and he knew that Derek did too.

“Mmm, fuck,” Stiles breathed. “Get the lube. Need to feel you inside of me.”

Derek nipped at his neck and gave a disapproving sound at having to move away, which was normal, but Stiles managed not to chuckle as Derek withdrew and shifted over to grab the nightstand drawer. He yanked it open and fished out the lube, handing it to Stiles.

Stiles grinned and gripped the lube bottle, flipping the cap and squirted some into his hand before pressing it between them and gripping Derek’s dick. Derek groaned, dropping his face against Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles slicked him up.

“Stretch me on your cock,” Stiles breathed against Derek’s ear and Derek couldn’t do anything but nod as Stiles pressed Derek’s dick between his asscheeks and rubbed his sensitive cockhead over his hole.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Derek teased, catching Stiles’ mouth in a kiss.

“At least it’ll be a good death,” Stiles joked back and gasped as Derek pressed forward, forcing his way into Stiles’ body.

“Fuck,” Stiles gasped, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his eyelids fluttered closed. His head dropped back against the bed, his body arching against Derek and taking him deeper until Derek bottomed out and they both let out desperate sounds. “God, I love it when you do that, making me open for you. You feel so damn good.”

“Mine,” Derek growled, punctuating it with a thrust of his hips and his mouth dropping to Stiles’ neck as Stiles turned his head. Derek scraped his teeth over Stiles’ mating bite, which caused Stiles to groan as he wrapped his legs around Derek.

“Yours,” Stiles breathed, letting himself go as he felt Derek through their matebond. A wash of warmth and love and desire that echoed his own. He threaded his fingers through Derek’s hair, cupping the back of his head as Derek worried his mark. “God, Derek. All yours. Always.”

He felt Derek’s fangs teasing his neck and god, Stiles wanted Derek to bite him and renew their bond, but first, he wanted —

“Fuck me,” Stiles begged, his nails digging into Derek’s shoulder as he clawed at him with blunt nails. When Derek pulled out and thrust back into him, Stiles moaned as Derek nailed his prostate.

And god, when Derek started moving in earnest, Stiles couldn't do more than take it as Derek’s hips pistoned perfectly, fucking him hard. Stiles’ toes curled, his long legs squeezing tighter around Derek.

“Derek, fuck—Derek—” Stiles gripped Derek’s hair and pulled him up into a kiss. Stiles kissed him thoroughly as they rocked together, Derek’s fang knicking his lips and tongue but Stiles didn't care. He loved it when Derek shifted for him because it meant that Derek was sharing all of himself with Stiles. That he trusted and loved him enough to do that.

“Stiles—” Derek slurred through his fangs, pressing his forehead against Stiles’, like he was struggling for control.

“I’ve got you,” Stiles panted, kissing Derek again. “Flip us.”

Derek nodded, holding onto Stiles as he shifted and rolled onto his back, gripping Stiles’ hips firmly.

Stiles grinned down at Derek, settling on him until Derek’s dick was pressing deep inside of him, stretching him in the best ways. Derek’s cock felt so much thicker when Stiles rode him.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re shifted.” Stiles kissed Derek, Derek’s arm wrapping around him and holding him close. Stiles could taste his blood on Derek’s lips and tongue, the metallic tang reminding him how sharp Derek’s fangs were and it only made his dick harder. “I need you to knot me.”

“You know I won't ever turn down that request,” Derek replied, thrusting his hips up, showing how much he didn't mind. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stiles replied softly, kissing Derek again as they started to move, Stiles easily rising and falling on Derek’s cock, the muscles in his thighs tense, his hands moving to brace himself against the headboard.

Stiles whimpered and Derek groaned under him as they moved in tandem until Derek’s hands gripped Stiles’ hips so hard that he knew he’d have bruises in a few hours. He whined as Derek held him still, fucking up into him, skin slapping together with the force of his thrusts.

“Fuckfuckfuck—I’m gonna, oh fuck—Derek, knot me,” Stiles begged, lips parted with desperate, needy sounds escaping as he fought for control. He didn't want to come until Derek was knotted inside of him, but god, he was so close.

Derek yanked Stiles down onto his cock and ground against him, Stiles’ hands dropping to Derek’s chest, his hips rolling and grinding with Derek’s until he felt Derek’s dick start to swell.

“God, Stiles. Gonna knot you up and fill you until you’re leaking,” Derek panted, a rumble coming out of him that Stiles always swore was a purr. And it was always so fucking hot.

Stiles captured Derek’s lips in a desperate kiss, needing more as Derek’s knot swelled until they were locked together. It was always so overwhelming in the best ways as Derek’s knot stretched him impossibly full, pressing against his prostate until Stiles tensed above him.

And then he was coming, white and hot between them, painting Derek’s chest and stomach with his come.

Stiles’ toes curled as his ass squeezed Derek’s knot, fluttering and milking him through his own orgasm as Stiles felt Derek’s knot pulsing come into him over and over again. His dick jerked weakly, blurting more come onto Derek as he thought about how if things were different, Derek could get him pregnant like this and god Stiles wanted that when he felt like this. Perfect and whole and swimming in Derek’s pleasure like an unending loop through their bond.

He kissed Derek without coordination, rubbing their lips together and pressing their foreheads together as he felt Derek’s arms wrapped around him, his mate’s hands running up and down his back in soothing strokes.

“Never gonna get used to that,” Derek panted, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “You’re amazing.”

Stiles laughed, but it sounded more like a drunk giggle.

“Mmmm, same to you,” Stiles replied with a lazy kiss. “I love you so much, more than anything.”

“You’re my everything,” Derek said softly, holding Stiles flush against him despite the sticky mess between them. Stiles didn't care. It marked Derek as his and he loved that anyone with a supernatural nose would know that Derek was his by scent alone.

“I know what you mean.” Stiles nuzzled against Derek’s neck, breathing in deeply and letting his scent wash over him.

Everything was perfect, if even for a moment, in a small town in Virginia where no one could take away their happiness. And Stiles would do anything to keep it that way, living the rest of his days with Derek right here, wrapped in each other's arms.

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fandommadememad · 9 months ago

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Tuning out the World (1133 words) by simplyn2deep Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Eli Hale (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Tumblr: sterekweekly, sterekweeklynoise Series: Part 34 of Shots of Sterek

#sterekweekly #sterekweeklynoise #sterek #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #teen wolf #eternalsterek

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triskhellion · 2 years ago

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Thunder

Rated: Explicit (12K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, minor OCs

Tags: POV Derek, Alpha Derek, Werefox/Thunder Kitsune Stiles, Post-Nogitsune, Angst & Fluff & Smut, Alternate Universe, Past Derek/Kate, Hale Fire, Violence, Some canon events but often with different timelines, outcomes or other details, Full Shifts, Derek is from NY, Stiles Leave Beacon Hills, Stiles Has a Fake Name, Depression, Getting Together, Self-Lubrication, Rough Sex, Knotting, Biting, Claiming, Cuddling, Various Sex Acts, Mates Derek/Stiles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Music

Summary: The one in rural Montana where two strangers — a depressed, lonely Alpha Derek and a haunted post-Nogitsune Werefox/Thunder Kitsune Stiles — leave everything behind and end up finding each other.

Soundtrack. (Every section has lines from 2 songs. A reverse songfic? The story mostly came first and the music chosen to fit it, lol. I recommend at least listening to track #1, "Roscoe." 😉)

Mead Moons prompts: Claiming, Full Moon, Hay, Hot & Thunder. @sterek-and-stuff-events

Sterek Weekly prompt: Attract (also Midnight & Clothes.)

Shadow thrown from light unknown, calling on the hearts. To challenge the alive and summon the asleep.

Oh, they’re a little like you, they’re a little like me.

The first time he laid eyes on the fox it was an afternoon towards the end of May and Derek knew nothing other than that the hardware store, Rock Creek Lumber, had a new stock boy. One that he’d never seen around before.

Not that he spent a whole lot of time around other folks, but he’d been here long enough, getting on 5 years now, to recognize the locals. Derek didn’t notice him in a back corner at first, was too busy mumbling to himself while looking for the right screws for the section of fence he needed to fix, but then he turned around and they locked eyes. There was an intense and puzzled expression on the kid’s face.

Although “kid” didn’t seen quite right. He was young — probably two or three years out of high school, maybe four — but there were dark circles under his whiskey brown eyes that made him seem older. Haunted. Knowing. Derek could see wiry muscle layered over his slender frame under the snug black company T-shirt.

He wasn’t gaunt, but much of the softness he’d once possessed had clearly been stripped away. There was a sharpness to him. High cheekbones and almost a point at the tips of his ears. The angles of his posture; a tilt to his head and hips and the jutting elbows leading to long fingers tightly clasped against his chest. In his clever eyes.

Both of them seemed to realize they’d been staring at the same time, Derek saying “Uh, howdy” and the stock boy straightening up and asking if he needed help finding anything.

“Looking for a screw,” he said, after tearing his eyes away and scanning the aisle again. He was already groaning internally when the words were halfway out of his mouth and the new guy — Sean his name tag proclaimed at another glance — snorted before asking what kind while trying to keep a straight face.

Once the damn things had finally been located Derek moved on to the other couple-three things he needed this time. He caught Sean watching him a few times more and sighed, frowning with concern. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to men — so was he — but it could be dangerous to be so obvious about it out here.

He didn’t look back after Leann rang him up and he headed for the door, but he felt the prickle of eyes upon him, an itch between his shoulder blades, and he wanted to. Later that evening the thunder began.

Who would want to hear about the wanderings of my mind? This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

We’re not all the same in this town.

When his family, his pack, had moved from upstate New York to what he’d once thought a “small town” of 30,000 called Beacon Hills Derek had stayed behind, already into his sophomore year at college and living in his own apartment. A space-craving middle child with his own life. Some great aunt that no one knew about had passed away and left his mother a large plot of land with a slowly deteriorating, but surprisingly functional house that they’d set to fixing up.

He’d been surprised when Peter had gone too, his uncle always reveling in the cosmopolitan, but apparently the territory was special. Something about a big old magic tree. Derek’s eyes would glaze over once he got going.

Yeah, it turned out the place was “special” all right. Whatever woke up again after Great Aunt Hilda died started calling all manner of supernaturals, often of an unfriendly sort. That in itself likely would’ve been manageable until they figured out how to shut the damn beacon (har de har) off again, but with “animal attacks” and “mysterious deaths” on the rise so came Hunters.

Derek visited the new Hale House on a handful of occasions, the last and longest time a few weeks the summer before his senior year of college. He’d been out at a bar, still thrilled at being old enough to enter one despite alcohol doing nothing to intoxicate him, when this pretty dirty blonde with a wicked grin came up to him. There was something unsettling about her, a harshness to some product she wore, but the older woman was all confidence and laughter and playful aggression and he was captivated and full of hormones, so they stumbled off attached at the face and took a rideshare to some sketchy motel.

They hooked up three, maybe four times while he was there, Derek always taking care to shower with a scent neutralizer after because he didn’t want any shit from his family. And then he was heading back to New York, texting “Kay” or “K” or however she spelled it goodbye and setting his mind to the next few weeks of end-of-summer parties and the classes that were to start on their heels.

A couple evenings later he was watching some new sitcom when he felt first his father and then his mother die in the span of what was probably a few minutes, but seemed much longer. He booked a flight as soon as he could, finally getting a hold of Laura before leaving for the airport early the next morning. She told him they’d been attacked, the house circled in mountain ash and set ablaze as she was on her way home.

Cora was okay, had been on the other side of where twin fires started and trapped their parents in between. She’d managed to escape out a window when a piece of debris or something must’ve disrupted the ash line. Peter though she’d found severely injured. Burned and pretty much unrecognizable, though still alive.

That same afternoon during his layover in Seattle he felt her die too and ran to the bathroom retching and trying to hide his flashing eyes. It couldn’t be. Not his sister too. Not Laura. What the fuck was going on?!

His wolf wanted to howl for the death of his closest packmate, the loss of two Alphas in two days, but he couldn’t. Not there in the airport. He couldn’t cry then for Laura and his parents either knowing that if he started he wouldn’t stop. Would fall apart.

Derek forced himself to calm down enough, outwardly at least, to get on the second, mercifully short flight an hour later. Caught up in traffic he didn’t make it to Beacon Hills until after 7:00pm, driving the rental straight to the address that Laura — oh God, Laura — had given him. There he found his reportedly horrifically burned uncle looking very much like himself with the exception of some scars on the side of his neck and red eyes.

Maybe if the first words he’d said to Derek had been “I’m so sorry” or “I didn’t mean to” things might’ve gone differently. Whether he didn’t because that would’ve been a lie — intentionally killing Laura while she was no doubt trying to care for him — or because he didn’t think he needed to apologize if he’d been truly out of his mind, Derek would never know.

Because when Peter opened his mouth all that came out was a bunch of hand-waving about the “unfortunate situation,” a promise that things would be okay (things would never be “okay” again,) and how they were still family — only three of them left now — and had to stick together. Derek too, even though he had consorted with a Hunter, but not to worry, he had wasted no time taking care of the ones involved.

The shock of the last statement had been enough to snap him out of his overt, incandescent rage and Peter continued with how he’d recognized the scent of one of the lackeys and got him to spill on the others. After getting rid of Unger he took out the Argent Hunters — Kate — and her father, and then finally Reddick.

Slowly, Derek approached him, the elder wolf likely assuming he’d been overcome by guilt or deep in a daze (both of which weren’t far behind) and expecting a show of submission to accept him as Alpha. Perhaps that he’d been seeking comfort or forgiveness. A hug.

He was starting to say something about expanding the pack when Derek tore out his throat.

Roaring. Ringing. Static.

Afterward, when he came back to himself, he tried to find Cora, but she’d fled when Laura died. Her phone was likely in the smoldering ruins of the house and his own forgotten in NY, possibly in the cab. He did run into Christopher Argent, an incredibly tense encounter that consisted of tersely exchanged information and twitching claws and trigger fingers.

Apparently, the Hunter hadn’t been aware of his sister’s plan, which his father had approved. Both were indeed dead. Peter was dead too because he killed Laura. No, Derek wasn’t staying. It brought some measure of relief to learn that based on a discovered journal the scheming had begun before his visit, that the attack wasn’t because of him somehow, but the guilt and shame, the disgust and self-hatred for having slept with someone so evil remained.

Then he realized that that harsh scent clinging heavily to the human now in front of him, a scent he’d picked up slightly from her, must’ve been wolfsbane. Derek fell to his knees, thankfully not getting shot when the Hunter flinched, as guilt slammed back into him. He’d never actually encountered it before, the Hunters in New York having enough to deal with to bother supernaturals who weren’t causing harm, but he couldn’t stop wondering “what if?”

What if he’d taken an interest in tagging along to the formal meetings with other packs and Hunter representatives with Laura and his mother? What if he hadn’t showered so thoroughly and someone brought it to his attention? It probably wouldn’t have changed anything other than him never leaving with her or him fucking her fewer times, but now he’d always wonder about the off chance that they might’ve been more alert. What if, what if, what if.

Cora, who he finally got in contact with after returning to NY, had much of the same feelings toward him herself once he haltingly explained what he’d found out. She was angry at everyone and everything, refusing to come back to him and eventually ending up in South America and joining a pack down there. They talked once, maybe twice a year. Confirmed the other was still alive and had some painful or awkward conversation (usually both) where she’d inevitably refer to Kate as his “psycho ex-girlfriend” and he’d want to shout that they were never dating, but didn’t. And that was that for the Hales.

It’s such a long swim and now there is no sight of land.

So I’ve come here to wait for the end of it all.

As was pretty much always the case when he had a new project, Derek had to go back to the hardware store in between his regular visits to town every week or so for something he’d forgotten or only realized he needed after he'd started. And so two days later there he was again, being helped by Mike, the clean-shaven 50-something owner, but watched not so surreptitiously by Sean. Until the young man knocked into a display trying to keep him in view as he moved to go down another aisle, that is.

Derek's lips curled ever so slightly upward as he pretended not to notice the scrambling to pick up or straighten the disarrayed products going on behind him. He could see Mike shaking his head in his peripheral vision, muttering under his breath about how maybe he should start drug testing. It took everything in him to keep from reacting to something he shouldn’t be able to hear. Poor Sean. People looking he was used to, but he’d never made a person run into something before as far as he knew. It was flattering.

This time when he felt that keen gaze upon his back as he left he turned his head while stepping through the door, finding Sean absentmindedly holding a wrench with his lips gently parted. He nodded, causing the short-haired brunet to hastily duck his head like the length of metal had suddenly called his name. Derek swallowed thickly as he walked across the parking lot thinking of those cupid's bow lips.

It wasn't like he was immune to the younger man's charms either, from the broad shoulders to his cute, upturned nose. If Derek was someone — something — else he'd be up for having a go, see what those long fingers and that smart mouth (he just knew) could do. Find out what he looked like under his clothes and felt like with those nice long legs wrapped around him. Maybe lay out in the field and look up at the stars after and get to know each other.

But he wasn’t.

Derek sighed as he climbed into his outfit, a gray, no-frills, 2-door 2017 F-350 with four wheel drive capable of towing a 3 horse trailer even on rough terrain. He tucked his new Texas Fence Fixer underneath the passenger seat and sought out some music to distract himself.

The one thing he bothered to add to the truck after a year with only the radio was an after market stereo that also gave him the option of bluetooth, usb port or aux input. Derek used the latter, still having a working discman as he preferred to collect physical media when possible both for the higher sound quality and so he didn’t have to worry about things getting yanked from a streaming service for whatever reason. They were his.

Derek flipped through his cd booklet and slipped out The Trials of Van Occupanther by Midlake. The first track, fittingly titled “Roscoe,” was a new favorite of his and he’d been surprised to learn that the album had come out in 2006 because it sounded like something decades older. Like something his dad might’ve listened to as a kid driving around with his own father back in the 70s. A pang of grief ran through him.

He pressed play and headed back, singing along and trying not to think of enthralling brown eyes and mole-spotted skin.

“Ohh, and when the morning comes we will step outside. We will not find another man in sight. We like the newness, the newness of all, that has grown in our garden soaking for so lo-o-o-o-o-ong.”

The music helped for a while, but when Derek arrived he trudged inside the quiet house, new tool forgotten in the truck. He sank down onto the plain beige couch and cradled his head in his hands. When he eventually looked up his gaze was drawn to the painting hanging off-center across from him.

Despite the fact that one of the ways he brought in income was taking photographs of wildlife and the great outdoors he only had one piece of art on his otherwise bare walls and it wasn’t one of his. No, it was a relatively large painting of a ship sailing before a rocky outcrop in a storm, rough dark waves and lightning flashing, that he spied in a free pile on the side of the road after an estate sale. He’d found it compelling and all too relatable, even more so having been discarded after belonging to some now dead person.

He imagined himself tossed overboard, battered by waves as he watched the imperiled, but infinitely preferable vessel get farther away. Trying to stay afloat, to breathe, between bouts of being knocked under. Into stone. Growing tired and heavy in the cold water. Limbs slowing. Water closing over his face for the last time. Sinking.

Green eyes stared until everything was gray.

Bring me a day full of honest work and a roof that never leaks. I’ll be satisfied.

There’s a new wild feeling dancing in the air.

Derek never pretended that he’d always been from here, would even say where he’d come from (gasp, New York) should someone bother to ask, but this place seeped through his skin and into his bones. The mountains and the plains and the great, big sky. Like how the rain soaked into the thirsty earth in summer where it didn’t turn to gumbo. He didn’t have a “spread,” had no desire to play at being a rancher like most of his distant neighbors were, but he had a nice stretch of gently rolling prairie leading up to forest and the Beartooth Mountains.

He’d wandered a while before deciding he wanted to buy land in rural Montana with most of his portion of the life insurance money. And now for something completely different, came John Cleese’s voice in his head. His dad had been a huge Monty Python fan.

There’d been another plot that he stumbled across online that seemed particularly appealing, but there was no way in hell he was living somewhere named Argenta. He checked out a few other potentials, including in person, but then he saw this place and knew. Roscoe, unincorporated Carbon County, MT. Population 16 as of the most recent census. Well, it was 17 now.

When he first arrived there’d been some months where he saddled up at the Grizzly Bar a good nine or ten times, desperate for the presence of other people despite his opposing desire to get away from it all. A city boy soothed by the chatter of the regulars and those who came out the 70-odd miles from Billings or even farther away just for a bite of fresh beef: steak, burgers, or prime rib. Talking about nothing at all with someone plunked down on a stool nearby or with the bartender serving him his usual whiskey ditch. Even just the sound of some bullshit calling itself news on the tv. Baseball or something.

There’d been other months where he hadn’t once darkened the doorway, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling or ghosting around his property, burning through his supplies until he got hungry enough to run down some burrowing critter or a speed goat if a herd came through and he happened to get lucky. Those suckers could run up to 55mph in short bursts if they saw you coming, fastest land animal in the hemisphere. The tawny, white marked ungulates with dark bits on their faces were also known as prairie goats or pronghorn antelopes despite being neither goats not antelopes, but something closer to the okapi and giraffes in Africa than anything else left alive. That was Montana for you.

It helped when he got his first horse, a gray gelding named Gable (say that 5 times fast) and had to get up to take care of another living being. A companion of sorts to spend time with and do stuff for and touch. Werewolves didn’t usually go feral without a pack like a lot of the stories said, but it certainly wasn’t good for them to be alone.

He evened out to around once a week at the Grizzly, usually stopping by on his way to or from the closest real town (a whopping 1200-1800 folks depending on the season) for one thing or another. Red Lodge wasn’t far, about 20 miles away, but he often made a day of it. Maybe catch a movie at the one screen Roman Theater, which opened in 1917 and was the oldest continuously operating one in the state. Derek picked up all kinds of tidbits like that along with the slang and even the accent to a certain extent.

He’d walk around and pass the flower shop he hadn’t felt a need to go into so far, maybe get something fancy from the bakery or one of the cafés. Buy random crap from the dollar store, supplies for building or maintenance from Rock Creek Lumber, and groceries from Beartooth Market or the farmer’s market. Takeout from the Chinese restaurant or the pizza shop or the taqueria (or occasionally all 3) for later.

A handful of times a year he’d drive up to Billings for the things he couldn’t get closer. Less common cuisines, indie flicks, speciality items, etc. One night stands or even more furtive and frenetic hook ups, though he had’t bothered the last few times. He’d get eyes from the local ladies, some of them very much married, but he kept away from the free ones who he might’ve fancied as well.

In all likelihood starting anything would mean either trying to have a relationship while hiding half of himself or winding up shot for being a monster and having to abandon his property, assuming he wasn’t killed by a particularly well-placed bullet. Even the guns had guns out here. Same issue with the local men he noticed were so inclined only with the addition of them almost certainly being Narnia-level closeted (wardrobed? whatever) and teaming with notions about manhood that would only cause pain. So that was that for love. Not like he deserved it anyway.

It wasn’t a bad life. He made enough to get by without dipping into the other money doing odd jobs and remote temp work along with his photography. There was breathtaking beauty and all sorts of projects to keep his hands busy and his body active. Responsibility and enjoyment interacting with the horses and books to occupy his mind at least some of the time.

Yeah, that’s what he told himself anyway. It was true enough on the surface, but underneath it all he had an emptiness inside bigger than the sky.

A sky which was now, from the sound of it, soon threatening to dump a river’s worth of water on his head despite there not being a mass of dark, heavy rainclouds anywhere in sight. Only a smattering of wispy ones on a mostly sunny day. What in the world?

Regardless, he quickly guided his spooked horses inside the stable barn, the bay mare sisters Ada and Jessie joining Gable a couple years ago. Three was a good number. Company for each other and able to keep him busy for at least a few hours a day, but manageable.

Derek stroked the agitated creatures in turns, along their necks and between their ears and over their snouts, speaking gentle nonsense to try to calm them. They all had white markings on their faces: Ada’s looking kind of like a leaf print, Gable’s like a streak of paint, and Jessie’s, unfortunately (or amusingly,) like a large bird shat on her forehead.

He was on edge himself from the strange wild power dancing in the air, nervous but also feeling alive, more present and in his body than he’d been in some time. He stayed with the horses as they trembled together until the unnatural thunder ceased.

When I look into your brown eyes I struggle to pull aside. I’m wanting you more within my life.

What sort of pressure, and what kind of force must there have been to drive you here?

It was over a week into July and Derek had made another half dozen trips or so to RC, always torn between wanting to see Sean, get to have a bit of a chat or a joke, and hoping that the mischievous younger man he found increasingly attractive didn’t have a shift that day. He could’ve just gone to Ace Hardware instead and avoided the situation altogether, but he couldn’t bear to stay away long. He’d skipped one week and ended up going twice the next, so he decided to just leave it up to fate. A rather dangerous prospect given his life so far.

Twice he’d been absent when Derek was there, including the last time. It was just as well because he’d been in a foul mood, dirty and cursing and damp after slipping in mud and falling in a puddle on the way to town. It was hot as hell — mid-90s — and had just finished raining when he’d stopped to try helping some out-of-towners get unstuck.

They’d pulled off the nice paved road just beyond a chicken foot and into the fresh sludge beside it for some goddamn reason. It was a futile attempt even for his truck without having gravel or wood or something to let the car regain traction while being pulled. The group was waiting on a tow truck when he left.

He thought he caught movement in the back of the store out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned around there was nothing there. Nothing he could see anyway. What he could smell a few moments later was another matter entirely.

Derek had no idea what it was, but it was rich and intoxicating and called to his wolf. His eyes flashed red involuntarily and it had startled him back under control. He hadn’t slipped like that in years and thankfully neither Leann up front nor the older man browsing at the end of the aisle were paying him any mind.

Cautiously, he took a couple deep breaths, but still couldn’t identify the scent, which was now just beginning to dissipate with the back door being open. Wait, when did that happen? Derek shook his head, trying to refocus his senses. His thoughts. Was he losing time? Imagining things? Or was something messing with him?

He fell into into an uneasy vigilance. Whatever the cause something was going on and he felt the need to get out of there. He didn’t really have to get anything today anyway and did his best to casually head for the door, a goodbye called over his shoulder.

Derek cut his outing short and headed straight home, feeling nervous the whole drive back. He kept an eye and an ear and his nose out the rest of the day and into the wee hours until he finally conked out close to dawn. If there’d been anyone around they’d probably tell him he was overreacting, but it was precisely because there wasn’t anymore that he expected the worst. He stuck to the house and only ventured out to check on the horses.

He didn’t let his guard down until a few days later, exhausted and feeling foolish. Of course that’s when they came.

Derek hadn’t noticed the diesel pickup until it was already coming up the driveway due to yet another sudden, noisy storm nearby. This one at least seemed more normal since it was actually raining.

It was late in the evening and he’d hurried out the back door to circle around and scope them out. He didn’t want to risk his wolf eyes giving him away, so at first he could only make out that it was three figures that were probably male. Then they stepped into the light by his front door, the one on the left reaching out to knock as the others scanned around with hands in their jackets.

Even before the wind changed direction it was clear from the way they moved and dressed that they weren’t cops. Not regular cops, cow cops, tree cops, feds, or any other kind. And then there it was again, the scent of wolfsbane. The knocking Hunter dropped his hand and joined the others in looking around.

“Hale, we’re not here to harm you. We just need to talk. You have my word,” the stocky, sandy-haired man shouted.

Derek snorted quietly. That one might be telling the truth at the moment, but what about the others? As if reading his mind, the same 30-something guy — the actual leader or a decoy? — nudged the taller men who were now on either side of him. He could practically feel them eye-rolling from here, but they too made the same assurances if with more hesitation.

Finally, the first man mentioned the reason for their visit. They’d tracked a dangerous creature to this area, a killer of several people and likely the cause of the freakish weather. Some kind of kitsune.

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. Now that was interesting and perhaps worth the risk. He might not have more than a passing acquaintance with anyone, but he didn’t want to just sit back and watch folks get slaughtered.

He didn’t want to get pumped full of wolfsbane either so he made a point of crunching the gravel beneath his feet as he slowly started to approach. The guy on the right, mid-20s with a narrow face and long, dark hair, still whirled around with his gun raised and Derek made sure to keep his own truck between him and them. The talker hissed at the man, who lowered the weapon somewhat. They stood sizing each other up and ignoring the rain for few moments before Talker asked if he knew the whereabouts of a recent arrival.

After a couple interjections from Young Gun they gave a pretty solid description: A 20 year old white man, 5’10”, with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and moles on his face. Last seen in Red Lodge.

“Huh,” he muttered, pretending to search his memory even as his stomach plummeted.

Maybe Derek was being irrational and letting his crush or whatever it was affect his judgement, but he just couldn’t believe that Sean, which was likely not his real name, was running around murdering people all willy-nilly. Not without some type of proof beyond the word of Hunters. There was something in his past, a sense that he’d been touched by darkness, but he didn’t seem like a source of it himself.

Oh and you’re such a great judge of character? his inner critic said in Cora’s voice. Heh. Well, he had picked up something unsettling about her. It’s just that he was going through life as a typical college student back then and thought it was in a “might get super insulting or jealous and controlling“ kind of way and not a “genocidal and will kill your family for fun because she thinks you’re abominations yet will still fuck you” kind of way.

He clenched his jaw minutely and then looked Talker in the eye.

“Sorry, I don’t know where he is,” he stated firmly, which was entirely true. Derek knew where he’d been, but he had no idea where he was now or where he would be. Obviously, if they weren’t just waiting to follow him from work or something Sean was already aware that they were here. Maybe there’d even been some kind of confrontation.

Once again his insides flipped at the thought. Sean could be injured. Or long gone and never to be seen again.

The third man, a lanky grizzled 40-ish blond who’d been silently watching the proceedings, narrowed his eyes.

“If you’re hiding this monster, Hale—“ he began, before being cut off.

“Surely, he knows better than that,” Talker said, smiling with too many teeth. He reached into his pocket, opened his wallet, and wedged a business card in the door jamb. “Well, if you do see him, give us a call.”

“You betcha,” Derek said mildly, lying to his face. He felt a moments’ amusement at finally using the ubiquitous phrase. The Hunters started walking towards their truck and he took that as his cue to back away, never taking his eyes off of them.

“We’ll be seeing you,” Young Gun called with a sneer before climbing in the driver’s seat.

Well that was ominous. He didn’t respond and waited until they we were well down the road before going back inside, throwing the card straight in the trash. Even if it turned out that the stock boy did need to be…to be neutralized Derek would be damned before handing him over to the likes of them.

But now he had to worry about Hunters knowing about him — and how exactly did that happen? — and he was alone and vulnerable. Couldn’t he catch a break? He sighed heavily.

Derek thought about running, but a lot of his money was tied up in the land. He’d settled in and accumulated stuff. Had horses. The idea of starting all over yet again was not just daunting, but soul-destroying. Enraging. Overwhelming. Impossible.

And then what, just wait for the next time? Spend the rest of his life as he’d just done the previous few days; stressed out, on high alert, and looking over his shoulder? Clinging to this scrap of existence? He was tired. Beyond tired.

The odds weren’t great to say the least, 3 vs 1 assuming they were weren’t more of them lurking around, but Derek wasn’t going anywhere. One way or another he was done. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d be particularly incompetent and poorly trained. Yeah right. Maybe he could take one or more of them down with him. That was more likely.

The next morning he made sure the horses had access to extra feed and water and called up the farm supply store in Roberts, asking the manager, Wes, if he’d be willing to do him a favor. To call if he didn’t hear from Derek by noon every other day for the next while and if he didn’t by the time the store closed at 6pm to come out and check on the horses. Charge anything he saw fit to his account. The generally jovial middle-aged former linesman listened quietly until he was done.

“You got some type of trouble, Hale?” he asked, gruff with concern.

“Could be,” Derek replied numbly. He thanked Wes and hung up without elaborating.

The following night there was another storm, brief, but closer and much more violent than before. A truly awesome display in every sense of the word, bolts of colorful orange lightning flashing when he peeked out before heeding the urge to keep away. When he was sure it was over he brought treats out for poor Ada, Jessie, and Gable.

The next time Derek went to town a couple afternoons later he passed by the hardware store, but didn’t stop in case he or it was being watched. It was no surprise, but when he saw the Help Wanted sign in the window his left hand clenched into a fist, the tips of his claws piercing skin until blood dripped onto his denim clad knee or down to the floorboard. He wondered where Sean went. If he was even still alive now.

That evening Derek was at the Grizzly flipping through an abandoned copy of the weekly regional newspaper — July 15th, today’s edition — when he saw that three men had been found dead yesterday. Out-of-towners from California who had all managed to get electrocuted wandering around a field by Roscoe. A freak weather occurrence the night before. Huh.

Well that takes care of that problem. There were no pictures of the deceased and he would follow up on the story to make sure, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t, in fact, be seeing those Hunters around. As for what else was going on, he guessed he’d have to wait and see.

Follow me down a fox hole in the ground. Don’t delay.

Everything is moving so fast. I am unlimited.

The full moon fell on another scorcher two days later, the air still warm and muggy a couple hours after the sun finally deigned to set around 9:00pm. Derek was tending to his horses, waiting until the temperature wasn’t sweltering anymore, but still sweating through his shirt after mucking out their stalls. Putting out fresh straw and climbing up into the hayloft and back down again multiple times. He wanted to have bales ready for tomorrow and maybe the following day and gave his interested audience a snack of hay and apples as well.

Derek wasn’t sure if he was gonna stay close tonight or go ranging once the moon was in full effect shortly before midnight. The Hunters were gone (he’d confirmed it online that morning) and he hadn’t been up to it the previous month, so he was leaning toward going out for a bit and seeing how it went. He felt the moment when the alignment occurred, the moon’s power calling to his blood, to his wolf, who responded with an interested, but rather mild wag of its metaphorical tail.

Derek sighed remembering how exhilarated he used to be, champing at the bit to run wild and reveling in his full shift. I should be grateful I feel anything at all these days. He finished up and was petting Ada goodbye when he heard the clock in the house strike midnight. It was another free box find, beat up, but with a functional pendulum, which he liked since he could know what time it was from any of the buildings on his property and a good chunk of the land without having to wear a watch. It could be silenced at night or whenever else he wished otherwise it would’ve ended up back in a pile.

On the seventh chime the lights inside the barn started flickering and that strange energy was in the air again, full of wild, dangerous potential. There was a moment of laden silence and then something moved in the brush outside. Derek’s hair stood on end.

He looked at his nervously whinnying horses and was glad that he’d been waiting until the check-in tomorrow to tell Wes not to bother with them anymore instead of calling him today. They would hopefully survive this even if he didn’t. He took a deep breath and walked into the night.

Lightning flashed high in the sky, confined to the rapidly congregating clouds for now, but Derek cringed nonetheless. A human-shaped shadow materialized from the darkness beyond the floodlights on the other side of the building, otherworldly eyes glowing a burnt orange. Moments later Sean was sauntering around the outskirts of the illuminated sphere wearing a sharp-fanged grin, wind blowing his not-quite-as-short hair as it whipped around and behind him.

Instead of relaxing at the mostly familiar face that he’d spent weeks daydreaming about Derek tensed even more, wondering if Sean thought he’d helped those Hunters. Or if they were actually right about him and he’d come to finish off his prey. Derek couldn’t think of another reason why he’d be here like this. At this time of night, looking like that. His wolf was still and alert.

He had increased strength from the moon, but he couldn’t fight lightning. Honestly, without the animosity he reserved for Hunters he didn’t really want to at this point. He was tired. Of the isolation and loneliness, even with his horses. The grief and guilt and pain. Of living. The emptiness that was gonna swallow him whole some day anyway. Even as the rest of him still rebelled at the idea there was a rather large part of him that felt relieved while staring death in the face.

The air stilled again momentarily and Derek closed his red eyes, breathing deeply as that intoxicating scent reached his nose for a second time. The scent of Sean. A final mystery solved as he waited for the end. At least it should be quick.

Oh, the fox came for him all right, but not at all in the way he’d expected. Derek kept his eyes closed even as footsteps raced toward him and moments later a body was colliding with his. The next thing he knew he was laid out on the ground, air knocked from his lungs and flat on his back with Sean straddling him. Purring.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Shocked, but starting to get turned on.

Hands planted on his chest, Sean leaned forward and sniffed at his neck, giving it a lick and sounding pleased when increased arousal flooded through him. He licked some more and nipped at Derek’s jaw, Inhaling again. The fox grinned mischievously and sat all the way down on his tenting crotch, grinding on him. Lying on top of him and rubbing himself all over, getting Derek all riled up.

He was content to let the fox have his way with him, but then in the blink of an eye Sean was standing and peering down at his confused form. Backing away towards the tall grass with swaying hips and a heavy-lidded gaze, licking his lips. Derek leapt to his feet, tracking every movement and matching step for step. He began to growl as Sean neared the rustling, wind-whipped vegetation and slowly turned around. Mine his wolf declared hungrily. The fox looked over his shoulder and smirked before taking off into the field.

Dirt flew as Derek tore after him, beta-shifted as he crashed through the grass. It was tall, but not enough to hide someone of their heights, yet he couldn’t see even a head floating above it. With the erratic wind still blowing it was also hard to discern that movement from one caused by someone ducked and passing through. He was going to have to rely on his hearing and smell, which were superior in wolf form. Quickly he stripped down and shifted completely, setting off again.

Lightning flashed again, thunder deafening, and he snapped his jaws at the sky. He dropped his muzzle to the ground, sniffing for where the fox had touched the earth since he couldn’t get a good scent from the air. He came across the trail and sped along it, that unique aroma growing stronger. Derek burst into a small bare patch of land where the scent was concentrated, but instead of catching Sean he only found a pile of discarded clothing. Clever. Despite his frustration he was impressed. Either he’s crawling around naked on his hands and knees, which is entirely possible — the thought went straight to his cock — or he’s a shifter too.

Derek was betting on the latter and this time he also looked for paw prints and snapped stalks lower down while trying to move quietly himself. During a break in the distracting weather, which seemed to be winding down, he heard what sounded like the brief tangling of a smaller animal up ahead. Stalking closer he saw a glimpse of brightness in the moonlight and rushed forward. The fox gekkered and started running again, Derek howling in pursuit.

Twisting and turning they darted through the drying blades of grass, his muzzle nearly touching a tail or leg on more than one occasion. Then Sean shot out into open ground, Derek too close behind to successfully double back to the more advantageous environment. His quarry in full sight with no where to hide he put on another burst of speed and began to gain on the other shifter, nostrils flaring at the musky scent. Earthy and sweet. Derek wanted to roll in it, but he had to catch him first.

Closer and closer he came and he could see more clearly that Sean was a beautiful multicolored fox, bright orange and black with patches of what might’ve been gray or silver. He had every intention of finding out later in the daylight. Finally, he deemed it near enough for a good tackle and he leapt, carefully landing over the wily creature and immediately dropping his weight on top of him. Derek took the scruff of his wiggling prey in his jaws and clamped down, but didn’t break the skin as the fox panted and whined beneath him. Mine.

His wolf was rearing to go, the overwhelming urge to thrust and bite and claim, but there was no way he could fuck the much smaller animal even if he’d wanted to. Thankfully, Sean began shifting back, thick, fluffy fur receding and becoming an expanse of dotted skin as he rapidly grew in size. Derek followed suit and soon he was pressed against the younger man, still gripping the skin of his neck in his mouth. He replaced his teeth with a firm, possessive hand and used his other arm to push himself upward to view what was his.

Panting with arousal as much as exertion now, Sean rested low on his forearms and knees and spread his legs in clear invitation. The youth glistened between his thighs and Derek ran two fingers there before sliding up to his sopping wet hole and the source of the richer ambrosial scent. Groaning, he slipped one and then two digits inside Sean’s tight heat, trying to give him some measure of prep before mounting him as his wolf demanded to do.

The impatient shifter whined and growled, bucking back on his fingers, which were now up to three. He turned his head and snapped at Derek, so he withdrew them taking the hint. If Sean was so desperate for his cock he was going to give it to him. Coating himself with the wondrous slick he lined himself up and pushed inside, hole fluttering around him as it worked to accommodate his girth.

Draping over his back and eyes closed in pleasure Derek immediately began to thrust, wrapping an arm around Sean’s chest to hold him close as he balanced with the other. He ran that hand soothingly along the whimpering shifter’s flank as he pounded into him, too much wolf to be gentle now that he finally started. He adjusted his angle though and soon the breathy, higher pitched sounds became low, throaty moans and Sean dropped down to his shoulders, lifting his ass in offering for more.

The fox tried to sneak a hand down to his cock, but Derek snarled and grabbed it, holding both hands down with his own. He thrusted harder, making him cry out and push back wantonly. Derek wanted him to cum from his cock alone, but he wasn’t cruel. If his fox couldn’t get there before him he would help things along.

When he started to knot, he took the back of Sean’s neck between his jaws again, an instinctual need to keep his mate in place. Whining and gasping the youth spread his legs even wider as Derek worked it in with short, jerky movements until he was locked inside. Growling lowly he switched to grinding and it wasn’t long before the fox tensed up, a piercing shout before rhythmic clenching began around his knot, the scent of cum hanging in the air.

Sean continued to milk him and then Derek was tipping over the edge himself, shooting his load deep within the otherwise lax body. Releasing the bruised skin to howl in triumph, his fangs then descended and he was clamping down once more, this time sinking into flesh and spilling blood to claim the writhing fox. Still coming as the budding connection snapped into place, he turned them sideways and began alternately licking the slowly healing wound and marking up the skin around it. Mine mine mate.

Won’t you tell me how I will not feel so lonely?

Thought we were due for a change or two around this place.

As he came back down to earth from the high of their mating, their breaths slowing and heart rates returning to normal, his human self likewise returned more assertively to the fore as the animal receded into the background. The wolf was happy, calm, and satisfied, but the man began to fret and doubt even as he held on more tightly to the young man in his arms whose body he was still buried to the hilt inside.

Did the fox want to be mated to him or had he just been expecting sex? And if he did was it only because his wilder, instinctual side was in control or was all of him truly onboard? Derek himself hadn't known he was actually going to bite him until right before it happened, though it was something his entirety wanted very much despite how he’d normally try to deny it.

Before he could sink deeper into worrying about having tied the fox to him beyond the immediate way a hand crept back to rub the nape of neck.

"Hi," whispered his mate, the first words spoken between them tonight. In something like two weeks now.

"Hi," he whispered back. "You okay?"

"More than," the fox chuckled weakly. "I could just hear you thinking so loudly "

He noted the scent of content amusement, which dialed his concern down a notch. Still he took a deep breath. "About me…biting you…”

"I wanted you to."

"Yeah?" Derek asked softly, almost disbelieving.

"...I came to you and initiated a chase on the full moon."

He grinned at the snarky reply and mouthed at an earlobe, nipping it and grinding himself into Sean's prostate again. The fox moaned and turned his head to nip back at Derek's nose before continuing.

"I might still be fairly new to all this, but I knew that much. That you would probably bite me if you felt... " There was a sudden shift in his scent. Uncertainty and a hint of guilt. "But you..."

"I wanted you too. The moon is strong, yes, but if I truly wasn’t interested, didn’t want you, I could’ve made myself stay where I was. Walk the other way.” Derek felt his sigh of relief and inhaled contentment once more. Good. “So what brings you to Gopher Crotch, Montana?”

“I hadn’t heard that one yet,” Sean replied, laughing before growing quiet. Derek grimaced, chiding himself.

“S’okay, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t even know why I asked. It just popped into my head and I guess my filter is pretty non-existent at the moment.” He sighed. “Folks end up out here and it’s rarely puppies and rainbows they’re coming from.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yup.”

The fox grabbed his left hand where it was idly running up and down his side and pulled Derek’s arm across him, intertwining their fingers and holding his hand against his chest.

After several moments he started to explain that he came here to try to learn to control his power in a sparsely populated area. He’d done a sacrificial ritual with some friends to save his father and a couple others, leaving himself vulnerable, and was possessed by a dark kitsune. The sadness evident when speaking of his friends grew thicker as he described the damage his hijacked body had done. Hurting and killing people. They finally managed to get rid of it when a werewolf friend bit him, but he ended up becoming some hybrid kitsune/fox shifter after.

“The Nogitsune can’t be two things at once, but apparently I can. Or I don’t know, maybe it assumed I’d be a wolf and bounced before realizing. Maybe it was something it left behind that made me change into a fox after starting to turn. Or maybe it was just me.” The younger man shook his head and snorted.

“Who knows? Whatever the reason, it happened. I knew other shifters, mostly werewolves and a coyote. Had a kitsune friend too. But none who were both.”

He spoke of the distance and awkwardness between them after. The looks. His guilt and grief. The nightmares. And then how he accidentally shocked his father when he tried to wake him.

“He survived. Recovered okay last I heard, but I-I couldn’t…” Sean trailed off, choking up.

“I know,” Derek said, squeezing his hand and waiting as he gathered himself.

“I once visited a great uncle out this side as a kid — not here, way more East — and after a few months on the road I thought of that. I had this old Jeep that belonged to my mom, named it Roscoe. There was no way it could make a trip like this, so I left it behind rather than have to ditch it somewhere in case some day…” His mate sighed. “So when I saw that on the map, well, I couldn’t help but stop nearby. Like it was sign.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Here I was about a week or so, got a job at RC, and then you come strolling on in. Immediately I was aware of you, drawn like a moth to a flame. I’d been…I’m not sure how to describe it, but like, buzzing inside from my power and eventually it’d grow until I’d have to let it out. But then I got this strange feeling of calmness with you there. And of course you were hot as fuck too.“

Derek blushed and grinned, dropping his face into the crook of his mate’s neck before responding.

“I was drawn to you as well. Intrigued. I didn’t know what to do with that, figured you were one more thing — or person — that I couldn’t have. Every time I saw you I was attracted more and more…” he shook his head ruefully. “Couldn’t stay away. So each time I pulled up I’d hope you weren’t there, but then was happy when you were and disappointed when you weren’t.”

The fox made a noise of amused commiseration.

“Our animal sides can be on some crazy shit at times, but there are definitely others when the human just gets in the way and you have to let the fox, or wolf, lead.” He purred and rubbed himself back against Derek and he rumbled back, setting his teeth gently over the mating mark.

“Apparently. Mine’s been pretty quiet for a while now, except sometimes when I’m hunting or if go running on the full moon. Not much for him to react to, you know? No pack, no other shifters nearby or even passing through recently. Even with the Hunters he was more in the background. Giving me information, but not trying to take point.

“And then you were all over me and took off with that look in your eye and he came roaring awake.” Derek chuckled at the smug satisfaction emanating from the fox. “So I take it you knew I was a wolf right away?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Huh. I couldn’t pick up anything supernatural about you until tonight.” Shoulders shrugged against Derek’s own.

“It seems to be a kitsune thing. A defensive measure that keeps you hidden unless you consciously drop it or when you’re actively using your powers.”

“Huh. And are fox abilities pretty much the same as wolves?”

“I think so, but sometimes weaker or stronger.”

“Hmm.” He was curious and looking forward to learning more about his mate. He knew that they existed, but had never actually known a fox shifter before. Or a kitsune. Both were significantly rarer than werewolves, at least in the States.

Derek figured it was his turn to share, so he gave a basic rundown of his own story. His lost family. How he stayed in New York when they moved away. The fire. Laura. Peter. He braced for judgement, if not for his naiveté with the Hunter then for killing his uncle, but the fox only turned their still clasped left hands over and kissed his palm.

He mentioned his estranged little sister and how he’d been resigned to being alone. When he was done his mate was thrumming with anger.

“Fucking Hunters,” Sean said, bitterly. “If they’d stick to their supposed code it’d be one thing, but so many of them clearly don’t. I ran into some before here too, back in Beacon Hills—“

Derek froze, heart racing as his mind tried to process those words. Surely he hadn’t heard that right. Or it was some other place with the same name. There was no fucking way. He’d been able to tell his story with a certain amount of detachment, but he hadn’t spoken the name of that cursed place. Could hardly bear to think it. Laughter in a bar. His claws red. The smell of charred wood and melted plastic when he made himself see the house before he left.

A concerned voice calling out to him broke him out the spell.

“—okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

He swallowed several times trying to work the dryness from his throat.

“Beacon Hills…California?”

“Yes…” Sean responded hesitantly.

“No fucking way,” he breathed. “That…That’s where my family moved.” Where they died.

There was a sharp inhale.

“The house in the Preserve...There wasn’t much known about what happened. I hadn’t thought to connect the name because I didn’t know they were wolves.”

“Really? Your wolf friend never ran into Christopher Argent?”

“Allison’s dad? What does he have—oh my god! Her aunt and grandfather disappeared around that time. They were the Hunters?!”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. No, Allison and her parents moved away soon after. They never knew about Scott. Some other dipshits came through a while later, tried to intimidate some of Satomi’s pack — she’s the Alpha who helped Scott with the wolf stuff. She and most of her pack live in Nevada, but a few were attending the county college for their veterinary program and noticed there was another wolf around, thank God. It was a lot to deal with on our own, trying to find actual information and keep him secret and in control.”

While his mate recounted throwing lacrosse balls at his packless friend the memory of Peter’s last words flashed in his head. He gasped as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place.

“Was your friend also Bitten around the same time?”

“Yeah, we never found out who—“

“I think it was my uncle. He was saying something about expanding the pack right before I…I didn’t know. His Alpha instincts must’ve had free rein to just attack some kid like that.”

“Holy shit,” Sean repeated.

“Holy shit,” Derek agreed. He knew he was going to dwell on this revelation for a good while, want to know all the details and about the new wolf, but he didn’t want to start that now. This time was for them. He shoved his train of thought back on track to where they’d left off.

“So those three Hunters…”

“I didn’t know I was being tracked, but I tried to be careful. Moved around, kept an eye on the weather to try to blend in with forecasted storms, but I’d have to put on a light show every so often when there weren’t any. Obviously they caught up to me when I stayed here so long...such beautiful scenery and all,” he said flirtatiously before getting serious again.

“Fuckers ran me right off the road. Tried to run me over really. I heard them behind me in time, but they followed me off the shoulder and destroyed my dirt bike right after I bailed. I had just saved up enough to get it before I came here too,” he hissed angrily.

“I hurt my leg and side when I landed so I ducked into an old shed nearby to try to buy some time to heal more. They taunted me outside, wouldn’t listen to me. Said no one ever escaped a nogistune before so I must still be possessed, but that even if I wasn’t I’d be an abomination anyway.”

Derek growled from deep within his chest and nuzzled the younger man. Fucking Hunters and their genocidal bullshit.

“When two of them were getting closer to the door I got small and foxy and crept out a hole by the ground in back. I guess they didn’t realize that I could shift too, so it took the other one a few moments to notice and react. Then I was running into the field, trying to find cover as they shot after me. They kept coming and I couldn’t run at my usual speed, so…” He shrugged. “Boom.”

He tightened his hold on his mate. Killing was rarely pleasant even if it was necessary or well deserved and he knew the fox already carried so much guilt from the lives his body was forced to take.

“It was self-defense.”

“I know. I mean I’m not happy about it, but I don’t exactly feel bad either, especially since I heard one of them mention coming back for you after ‘taking care of their fox problem.’”

Derek closed his eyes and shuddered. He’d figured as much, but it was another thing to hear it for sure. It didn’t matter that he was minding his own business and not a threat to anyone. He wasn’t human and so shouldn’t exist.

“Thank you,” he said, throat tight.

“De nada, mate.”

Mate. He was thrilled to hear it out loud for the first time.

“Oh hey, what’s your name? Other than Hale?”

“Derek,” he replied, amused that they’d gone this long without bothering to ask. ”And what’s yours? Not actually Sean I assume?”

“Well…it’s Myeh-cheh-swaf. But I go by Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” he said, voice low and syrupy, grinding into him again. Stiles giggled.

“If you keep doing that we’re gonna be stuck out here forever, dude.”

“Not seeing the problem.” Derek grabbed an ass cheek and then gave it a playful spank. “And don’t call me ‘dude’. I ain’t been no city slicker in years,” he drawled with an exaggerated accent.

Stiles snorted and started squeezing his knot in retaliation, making Derek groan. He slipped a hand between them to feels where they were connected, trailing two fingers through the slick. The fox made a cute little noise.

“I have to say the whole, uh, getting wet thing was quite the surprise.”

“Mmm, I like it.”

“I can tell.” Derek could hear the smirk in his voice. “I bet you’ll be happy to know the first time it happened was the last time you came in to the store before things went to hell. You were all sweaty and dirty in that basically see-thru tank top looking like a walking wet dream. Then without any warning there was leaking happening. I froze and then ran to bathroom thinking I must’ve ate something off for lunch and was having some kind of problem.”

A belly laugh erupted out of Derek shaking them both.

“I fell into a big muddy puddle trying to help some folks that were stuck. Took off my button-down to try to get the worst of the muck off and wiped myself down. I was annoyed as hell and lost in my head when I got there and then all of a sudden I smelled something amazing. Didn’t know what it was or where it was coming from.”

“Yeah, that seems to be from my, uh, regular fox side. Which is totally a thing I just say now. Anyway, I kind of freaked out when I saw you turning and I guess I did something kitsune-ish so you wouldn’t notice me? But using my power meant the usual concealment stuff went away and you could smell my full scent. And, um, that.”

Ah, so that’s what happened. He refrained from mentioning his own freak out thinking he was either losing his mind or that something potentially bad was happening. The paranoia that ended up being warranted, but not because of him.

“It’s weird and I’m still getting used to it, but I have to admit it’s very convenient. I would’ve had to stop for lube or something last night otherwise.”

Derek laughed more, imagining a glowing eyed Stiles followed by a miniature lightning storm stopping by the general store for some K-Y and Miss Ginny getting on the phone right after being all “I’m pretty sure the new boy down at RC is some kind of demon, but anyway I saw him buying a bottle of ‘you know what’ and I just have to wonder who for…”

“Mind sharing with the class?” Stiles asked curiously when he continued to crack himself up. Derek told him and then they were both dissolving into giggles, causing his now mostly soft cock and shrunken knot to finally slip out. Stiles made a soft whining sound and then stretched before turning toward him. They drank each other in face to face.

“I figured you probably wouldn’t be small, and yeah, no way that was going in me dry, especially not having taken a cock before,” Stiles added, blushing, before snuggling up to him again.

Derek froze.

“Yeah, I’ve slept with some folks, but they all happened to be of the female persuasion. So, yeah. First guy.”

A pleased possessiveness flashed through him mostly — but not entirely — from his wolf, but then Derek frowned, feeling more than a little guilty.

“I was rough with you.”

Stiles pulled back to look him in the eye. “Again, I knew what I was getting into. Full moon, Alpha wolf. And I liked it. A whole lot.”

Derek hmmed. “And you’re not…hurt?”

“You weren’t that rough and I was, you know, ready for you. Sure, I was pretty sore at first right after because virgin ass plus knot even with everything, but just very slightly now. In a nice way. While my healing isn’t as fast as yours it’s still pretty quick.”

He sighed in relief.

“I guess I make up for it by running faster than you,” Stiles teased.

Derek huffed. “I seem to remember catching you.”

“I seem to remember letting you. Gotta stoke that Alpha ego.”

There was no blip in the fox’s heart beat. That little shit.

“Plus I wanted to get fucked already. You were…” Stiles sighed dreamily. “I wanted you so much.”

Well then.

“But if the Big Bad Wolf is still worried about traumatizing little ol’ me with an epic dicking and you want to give me an apology blow job or something to feel well and truly forgiven, I wouldn’t stop you…”

Derek laughed again. He’d already laughed more in past 10 minutes or so than he had in weeks. Laughed harder than in longer than he could remember.

Agreeing that that was a great suggestion he rolled them over so that Stiles was on his back and then slid down his body, tasting the grass stained skin of his chest and abdomen and belly, venturing on until he reached his prize. Derek grasped the base of the still hardening cock and rumbled as he licked off the evidence of Stiles’ previous orgasm before he took it in his mouth and suckled the head. He was rewarded with louder moans of pleasure from his mate when he sunk further down, bobbing up and down shaft while reaching to fondle his balls with his other hand.

After a couple of minutes Derek gave the delicate sack one more squeeze and then moved his hand lower to gather slick from between soft inner thighs. The moans turned to gasps and when he pushed two fingers inside the fox’s quivering hole, jacking the shaft after pulling off to watch as his load trickled out along with fresh slick. Derek growled at the sight, thrusting faster and aiming for that sweet spot.

When his mate was getting close he descended once more on the now leaking cock, continuing to finger him while engulfing him deep, until the tip was nestled in his throat. He made a humming sound and then Stiles was coming and crying out. Derek greedily swallowed his release and cleaned his cock until he was sensitive and whimpering. Grabbing him by the hips he then hoisted him up so that only his head and shoulders remained on the ground, tongue pressing against the furled entrance of the weakly moaning fox and lapping their mingled fluids until he was satisfied.

“Um, wow,” Stiles said breathlessly when he finally set him down.

“I want to fill you up again,” Derek rasped, his eyes a steady red as he kneeled between trembling thighs, stroking his own aching, eager cock.

Stiles’ eyes flashed orange in response and he spread his legs wider, folding them up and holding himself exposed for Derek. So trusting and willing, this alluring and powerful creature who could blast him into next Tuesday, fry him to crisp and blow away the dust, but so readily submitted to him. Wanted him. His heart felt like it could burst.

He crawled forward to bracket Stiles in his arms, leaving marks on his throat. Filling in some of those blank spaces that he couldn’t reach the last time. He rubbed his beard against the tanned skin, nuzzling and scenting him and when he couldn’t wait anymore he coated himself with slick and pushed in again with one steady motion, both of them moaning. Flush together and wrapped in heat, Derek closed his eyes and took a moment to just savor the feeling of being snug inside his mate.

Affection and a sweet desire coursed through the bond and then Stiles was leaning up to kiss him, wrapping those long, strong legs around his waist. He started off slow and deep, rolling his hips sinuously as they explored each other’s mouths for the first time. Eventually he sped up, the fox’s writhing and little sounds spurring him on, and Derek held his gaze as he drove in faster and harder.

Stiles’ eyes took on an eerie glow, the same one as before the chase. A darker shade than the previous flashing yet more shimmery. Uh-oh, here it co—

Lightning flashed high in the overcast sky, the boom of thunder only a split second behind. Startled, unhappy neighing sounded from the barn.

Derek shook his head at his sheepishly grinning mate. He adjusted his position to get use of an arm and hiked an ankle crossed at his lower back higher to rest over his shoulder. Then he spat in his hand and grasped Stiles’ cock now that enough time had passed to give his new favorite toy a break.

“Think you can manage to stop scaring my horses?” he asked with a smirk, jacking him.

“Mmm…maybe with…the proper…motivation.” The pleasure drunk fox rubbed his other thigh against his side. Derek started thinking of all sorts of fun ways of training and testing his control. He nibbled at an earlobe and let go of his mate’s erection to twine their fingers together, pressing the backs of Stiles’ hands into the earth.

“Oh is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

He picked up the pace again and Stiles answered, rocking his hips in a matching rhythm. Hungrily they attacked each other with their mouths, licking, sucking, biting anywhere they could reach. The lightning ceased, but then it immediately started raining.

Shaking with laughter they slowed but didn’t stop, grinding as the heavy droplets cooled their feverish skin. He took Stiles' face in both hands and kissed him deeply between giggles. As they ramped up again and his knot began to swell arms wrapped around to hook on his shoulders. It wasn’t long before claws were scratching down his back and when Stiles came he buried his fangs into Derek’s flesh, leaving a mating bite of his own between shoulder and neck.

He whined from the delicious overload of sensations, thrusting erratically a half dozen times more before locking, teeth still embedded in him. Rain collected in the dips of their bodies and rivulets of water, sweat, blood, saliva, and cum ran off of them into the thirsty ground.

When they were done — his knot going down more quickly the second round — they got up and ran naked and laughing toward the house, Stiles shifting halfway and taking off with a playful yip. Derek followed suit, howling as he tried and failed to close the distance. He was definitely gonna have to do some training himself, futile though it would probably be. If he could only arrange a chase long enough he bet that he could win on endurance. Wolves typically traveled much farther than foxes after all.

In the meantime, at least he knew his mate would take pity on him — or get horny enough — and let himself be caught sometimes. Not this time though.

When he reached the stoop at the side of the house the fox was casually lying there waiting for him with his tongue lolling out. Derek chuffed and nipped his muzzle before licking his right cheek and ear fondly. Little shit. Shifting back he turned the knob and held the door open for his mate to scamper into their home, following after with a grin bigger than the sky.

Come morning, miles along, gathered round, those remained. With bird in hand and a cry for the land, joy to gain.

We have all we need.

Thanks for reading!

Here's the previous fic (unrelated) for this event/series: Second Chance Strays.

#sterek #sterek fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #mead moons #mead moons claiming #mead moons full moon #mead moons hay #mead moons hot #mead moons thunder #sterek & stuff events #sterekweekly #sterekweeklyattract #mead moons trisk

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