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Stiles doesn’t want to do this, but Derek text him and asks him to come over, saying it's an emergency. He brings his laptop just in case there's research that needs to be involved, and a few books on mystical creatures he manages to convince Deaton to part with and let him “borrow.”
Stiles has been to the newly rebuilt Hale House only twice. The first time, he spends precious moments marveling at everything from the design to the décor (courtesy of Lydia and Cora). It’s a stunning house. It looks nothing like the original, but Stiles can feel a satisfied, omnipotent energy around the property, which he assumes is the pleasant approval of the buried souls there.
The second time he comes to visit doesn’t end so well, and he hasn’t been back since, so it's strange standing on the front porch amid the large glass doors, waiting for Derek.
He sees the Alpha trot down the stairs and approach the front door.
“Hi,” he says, opening the door and standing aside.
Stiles accepts the invitation and comes in. “So what’s up? What’s going on? You said it was an emergency.”
“No. I said it was important,” Derek corrects, closing the door.
“What’s so important then?”
“You want to come in?” Derek leads him into the living room.
Stiles immediately takes a seat on the far right sofa. He breaks out his laptop from his backpack and sits it on the coffee table, booting it up. “Alright. What are we up against? What did you see?”
“Um, you want something to drink?”
“Coffee, if we’re going to be doing some hardcore research. You know, I haven’t heard anything from my dad about ‘animal attacks’ or dead bodies. It’s been pretty quiet.” He knocks on the wooden table for luck. “But if you think something’s going on, I don’t mind getting to work. The faster we destroy whatever’s about to stir shit up, the better, in my opinion.”
Derek crosses the room and takes a seat on the coffee table beside Stiles’ laptop. “It’s not… It’s not that kind of important. Not the life-or-death kind.”
“You think everything is life-or-death, so if you’re downplaying this than it must really be fucked up. Where is everyone? We should call them.” Stiles pulls his phone from his back pocket.
Derek stops him with a hand over his. “Stiles. We really don’t need everyone here for this.”
“That’s what you say, but then there’s running, and screaming, and blood, and trips to the emergency room--”
“No. I’m serious. This is about… It’s just us.”
“’Just us’…?”
“Yeah.”
Stiles is confused. He’s barely seen Derek for the last 5 months, let alone talk to him, then out of the blue he text him, telling him to come over to the house and that it’s “important.” The last time they even said more than three words to each other was… And then it dawns on him.
“I’m not going to do this with you.” Stiles starts backing away his laptop, dying to get out of there.
“Stiles. Wait. Please.”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not having this conversation with you. Ever again.” Stiles rises, making Derek get to his feet, too. He tries to brush past the werewolf, but Derek blocks his path. “Move.”
“I want to talk.”
“I don’t.” He tries again to sidestep Derek, but Derek stands in his way. “What are you doing? You think if you force me to stay, you can force me to speak. I will sit here in the most uncomfortable silence known to man with you. Believe it or not, I know how to be quiet.”
“Fine. Then I’ll talk.”
“You don’t know how,” Stiles jabs. “And when you do, it’s nothing anyone wants to hear. Now, let me by. Please. It’s the only time I’m going to be polite about it. My next move is screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping to God somewhere hears me.”
“…I’ll take my chances.”
Stiles seethes, but he can’t do it. It was an empty threat the moment it popped into his head. He knows that. Chances are Derek knows that, too, and it makes him brittle with anger. “I hate you. So much.” He bites his bottom lip, hard, hoping it’ll quell the tears brimming in his eyes.
“I heard you lie.” Derek’s not gloating, just stating the truth. One that rings loudly in his ears, like church bells.
Stiles throws down his backpack. “Fine. You want to talk, we’ll fucking talk. Me first,” he says with a hard glare. “Do you even know what it took for me to do that? To say that to you? It was eating me alive and I couldn’t live like that. I don’t like secrets; other people’s or my own.”
“I know that.” He remembers how much it tore Stiles apart not being able to tell his dad everything, and all the lies he told to cover up what he hid from him.
“So, I decided to be bold, and true to myself and what I want. I broke up with a really great girl because I couldn’t keep lying to her and myself about it. She cared about me, and loved me, which is all I ever wanted from someone else.”
“You’re not alone in that, Stiles.”
“No! This is not about you and your past and your man-pain for a change! It’s about me!”
“They’re one-in-the-same.”
Stiles chuckles wryly. “Your audacity right now is monumental. I can’t even with this.” He grabs his backpack and storms past Derek toward the front door—
“I love you.”
Stiles freezes.
“I am in love with you, Stiles.”
Stiles finally turns to him, tears running down his face. “Why now? Since when? Why did it take me disappearing on you for you to care about me?”
“Is that what you think? Stiles, I have been in love with you since you held me up in a pool for 2 hours, saving both our lives.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Because you never said anything! Because I came over in the middle of the night and told you that I loved you, and wanted to be with you. To be claimed by you and marked and always yours and you turned me away! YOU BROKE MY FUCKING HEART!”
“You threw me, Stiles! You came out of nowhere and…” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to find the words, to tell this boy, the one he’s wanted for so long, just how he feels.
“So, your first instinct was to reject me? Why am I not surprised? I have such a nasty habit of falling for people that see me as nothing much, nothing special. I have got a real masochistic heart, and it never seems to fail me.”
Derek stalks to Stiles, stopping right in front of him, all red eyes and scowling. “That is not what I meant. I am not Lydia, nor anyone else you’ve been with, and don’t you ever talk about yourself like that again.”
“I’m only telling the truth.”
“It’s not a truth I know.”
“Isn’t it? I’m finding out more and more, the deeper my feelings go for someone, that I might not be worthy of someone else’s love.”
In a flash, Stiles is on his back, lying askew on the sofa, Derek hovering over him, flashing his fangs! “I told you to stop that. My wolf doesn’t like it,” he snarls, fists tight in Stiles’ shirt.
Stiles’ heart is like the wings on a humming bird. He takes deep breaths, staring right into Derek’s blood red eyes. He doesn’t know what to do, and at a loss for words. There’s too much turmoil inside him. He’s angry and sad, helpless and aroused.
“I can smell you,” Derek practically purrs. He runs his nose along Stiles’ hairline, down his cheek, behind his ear, and at his jawline.
“Derek…” Stiles says, breathless, feeling his cock grow stiffer and stiffer.
Derek nudges his chin with his head, forcing Stiles to dip his own head back, baring his neck to the Alpha. A hungry growl rumbles from the werewolf. “My wolf wants you. He’s wanted you for so long.”
Stiles gasps when Derek grinds down on him, letting him feel how hard he is in his jeans against Stiles’ thigh. Stiles licks his lips, mouth gone dry. “Do…Do you want to claim me? I want you to. I want you to so badly, Derek.” His fingers dig into Derek’s shoulders when the older man licks a long stripe from Stiles’ collarbone to just under his chin. Stiles moans.
“Mine.”
“I’m yours, Derek. I swear. No one else’s.”
It’s all Derek needed to hear to sweep Stiles off the sofa, and carry him upstairs as quickly as he can.
Derek drops Stiles on the bed. He’s still partially shifted, and Stiles has never found him sexier.
He's still getting his shoes off by the time Derek is completely naked.
Derek grabs Stiles’ ankles and yanks him to the edge of the bed. Claws slash at his flannel and T-shirt, falling from his lithe body in tatters. Derek takes his jeans off as though they personally offended him, and shoves his boxers down his legs.
It’s all going so fast. Stiles’ head is spinning, heart still racing. Derek wants him, and his wolf really wants him. He’s just now coming to that realization when he takes a breath, and Derek is crawling over him, kissing him sloppy and wet. It’s all passion, no technique. And Stiles could give a damn, because Derek Hale wants him.
Derek pushes Stiles’ knees further apart, and settles between them.
“Derek! Wait!”
He growls. Legit growls.
“I want you to, but I need to be prepped. You can’t just…you know. Breakable human here, sourwolf.” He sits up on his elbows. A hand coming down gently on the side of Derek’s face, scratching at the dark beard there. He kisses him, slow and sweet, fangs nipping at his lips.
Derek accepts the kiss, matching the rhythm.
Stiles opens his eyes. He pulls back a little. Derek looks at him, fully human again.
“Not that I don’t like the wolf; I love the wolf, but I need you back for this part.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
Derek kisses him once more, before sliding back, standing off the bed.
Stiles finally has enough coherence, too, and notices the room. It’s lit with a hundred candles in mason jars, creating a smooth, romantic glow. Rose petals littler the floor, and lead to the master bathroom. “Derek…”
Derek takes a bottle of lube and a condom out of his nightstand drawer. “What?”
Stiles gestures to the candles around the room. Derek stretches out over him again atop the bed. “This is a long time coming, Stiles. I meant what I said. I should have told you that the night you came over.”
“Why didn’t you? I felt so stupid, and I hated myself so much. I had to leave the pack. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t be in the same room with you and know you don’t love me.”
He doesn’t want to cry again, but the tears sting in his eyes at the memory of it all.
“I was…sacred.”
“Of what?”
“Not being right for you. Letting you down. Not being worthy enough for you. Trapping you in something you’d grow to hate.”
“You’re such an idiot. Didn’t you hear anything I said that night?”
“Kate—”
Stiles sits up. “Don’t you ever compare me to that fucking monster. I am not her. I will never make you feel like that. I will never hurt you. Ever. She’s disgusting, and I’m glad I got to cut her throat open and watch her choke on her own blood. She’s not worth a 1/10th of the thought you have about her. Understand me?”
Derek smiles, and attacks Stiles’ mouth, vicious and greedy. His lips move to Stiles’ neck to suck a hard bruise on his pulse point.
“Derek. Eat me. Eat me out please.”
Derek doesn’t need to be told twice. He turns Stiles over, onto his stomach, and kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed. He sucks a fat hickey on Stiles’ right cheek, then spreads him open. He swipes one long finger down his crack, and Stiles shudders.
He wets his finger in his mouth, and does it again. And again. The third time, he catches it on his hold, drawing around the rim. Stiles pulls at his own hair, breathing shallowly.
He should uses the lube, but he hates the slick, oily way it tastes. So he spits, right on Stiles’ pucker, and licks all the way up his crack, moaning at the saccharine tang of his boy.
Stiles whimpers and shivers, fisting the bedspread as Derek eats hungrily.
His tongue slides in, fucking him soaked and messy. Stiles reaches under himself to touch his dick, but Derek grabs his hand, twisting it behind his back, holding it there while he continues fucking Stiles on his tongue.
“Derek! Oh, my God! Please!” Stiles involuntarily humps the bed, needing friction there. His body is hot, sweating, and feeling like tiny pricks all along his skin.
Derek gives him one long, slow as hell, lick from his sack to his coccyx, then lets his wrist go, backing away from the shuddering boy on his bed. He dabs a couple droplets of lube on two fingers and crowds over Stiles’ back.
“I was going to come.”
“Not like that.” His slick fingers tease at Stiles’ hole before the index slips past the ring, and Stiles lets out a lewd moan.
“Is your beard wet?”
Derek leans down and Stiles turns his head so their lips meet in a filthy kiss. Derek’s beard is wet, of spit and sweat and Stiles can taste himself in it.
Derek lets his middle finger join the index inside Stiles.
“I couldn’t stand Braeden. It used to drive me crazy, you with her. I was so jealous she got to do this with you. I wanted to hurt her, so bad,” Stiles confesses.
“You made me hate my own cousin,” Derek volunteers, fucking Stiles easily on his fingers. “And it took forever for me to like Lydia.”
“I was never with Lydia.”
“Doesn’t matter. She had your heart. You wanted her.”
“You have it now-- ah ah ah -- I want you. I always wanted you.”
Derek pulls out of Stiles. Stiles turns around, lying on his back. He scoots up a little further on the bed. Derek follows. He grabs the condom beside his ankle—
Stiles takes it from him. “You don’t have to.”
“I should though,” he says, kissing the human.
“I know…but I… I don’t want you to.”
“It’s not for—”
“I know what it’s for. And I still don’t want you to. I want you to claim me. Completely.”
“…Are you sure?”
Stiles nods. He lets the condom fall to the floor from his hand.
Derek’s eyes fade crimson again, fangs out, as he partially shifts; his wolf turned on at Stiles wanting him to come inside him, to breed him.
Stiles legs come up, wrapping around Derek’s waist. Derek lines his cock up to Stiles’ dripping entrance.
“Fuck me. Anyway you want.”
Permission granted, Derek slams into Stiles with one hard thrust. Stiles screams, digging blunt nails into his biceps.
Derek snaps his hips into him at a steady pace, growling and hissing through his pointed teeth. Stiles’ eyes roll to the back of his head, feeling the drag of Derek’s girth-y, 10 inch cock glide in and out of his tightness.
“You feel so good, Derek…” He wants to bury himself here, underneath the man he loves, on his dick, and caged by his massive arms.
“You feel good. Tight and wet for me…” Derek sits up, on his knees, no longer hovered over Stiles, and without breaking stride. “You look amazing, too.” He picks up a faster rhythm that has Stiles moaning on every thrust. “You like that, baby?”
Stiles never figured Derek for pet names, nor himself one for enjoying being called something other than his (nick)name, but hearing it out of Derek’s mouth, all syrupy and lustful, makes him keen. He nods, answering Derek’s question.
Derek moves a little faster. The bed lurches with them now.
Stiles hands find Derek’s pecs, and drag down to his abs. He’s seen Derek shirtless and naked so many times he can’t count, but now, like this, it feels brand new, and Stiles just wants to admire the man… But it only last a moment, because Derek adjust his angle a bit, and suddenly Stiles is seeing stars.
Derek hits his prostate.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Derek grins wickedly. He stays right there, pounding harder and faster into Stiles, hitting that special spot, making Stiles scream and shout, beg like a wanton. His hands grip the edge of the bed. Stiles is halfway off it, crying at Derek’s rapacious fucking.
The wolf has been peaking its head out, playing at the corner, but now he wants out completely. He wants the boy, all on his own. Derek shifts into his beta form. Stiles’ legs tighten around his waist. He tries to touch his cock, but Derek snaps and snarls at him. Stiles returns his hand to Derek’s meaty arm.
Derek pushes into Stiles with a deep, hard thrust that has him digging his toes into the comforter, nearly listing them both off the bed.
“GOD,” Stiles screams! He comes in a huge, messy splash that lands on his stomach, chest, and Derek’s stomach.
Derek thurst again, going deep inside Stiles, as though he’s trying to tunnel his whole self into him.
He does it again.
And again.
Stiles is putty. Goo. Limp and quiet. Fucked into unconsciousness.
Derek thrust one more time, letting out a fierce growl as he spills inside Stiles, until empty.
He pulls Stiles into his arms. Breathless. Sweaty. Hot. And achy. He carefully pulls out of him. The drag tugs at his arousal a bit with how sensitive his cock has become.
Stiles is still blacked out. Derek knows how to wake him: he sinks his teeth into his neck! Stiles’ eyes blow open with a gasp at the werewolf latched onto his throat!
He grabs a fist full of Derek’s hair and yanks him off of him! Derek’s lips have blood on them. “Did you bite me? Like bite me bite me?”
Derek shakes his head. “I marked you.”
“…So I’m yours?”
“You’ve always been mine. Now, other people know.”
Stiles sits up and licks into Derek’s mouth, tasting his blood there. “I love you.”
Derek nuzzles him. “I love you, too.”
“Does this mean we’re, you know, like…married?”
Derek shifts back into his human form, and runs a hand through Stiles’ sweat-soaked hair. “Practically.”
“When do we get ‘actually’ married?”
Derek smiles. “Whenever you want.”
“So…if I said Friday was good for me…?”
“Then we’d get ‘actually’ married on Friday.”
“Is there anything else we need to do before this ‘hypothetical’ Friday?”
“I need to mark you a bit more. Scent mark you, too.”
“Did you not just do that?”
“Scenting you involves me coming on you, rubbing it into your skin, and you not bathing for a couple days.”
Stiles runs a finger along Derek’s mouth. “I’d much rather you came in my mouth.”
“We have all night,” Derek says, kissing Stiles’ neck. “We can do that, too…" Derek's lips find Stiles' ear: "Do you really want to marry me, Stiles?”
Stiles looks Derek right into his eyes. “Yes. Since Mexico. Since I thought I lost you. Since you left me.”
Derek leans their foreheads together. “I didn’t leave you, baby. I came back to you,” he whispers.
“Don’t do that ever again. Wherever you go, I go.”
“Always.”
They kiss. Easy and unhurried.
Stiles urges Derek on his back. He kisses his neck, down his chest, swirling his tongue around his right nipple, before continuing down the Alpha’s abs, his navel, and the happy trail of hair that leads to where he wants to be.
Derek hisses, still sensitive there, but loving the feel of Stiles' hot, mouth around his dick.
Stiles goes easy, sucking languid and savoring; enjoying the musky, worked smell of his wolf.
Tipped claws gently graze his head encouragingly.
He doesn’t want to be anywhere in the world but here, right now, in this moment. Which is odd, he knows, given his earlier reluctance to even come over tonight, let alone stay. But Derek told him he loved him, made love to him, claimed Stiles as his, and wants to marry him this Friday.
He let Derek come in him, knowing the risk, asking for it actually. Wanting it since that day at the hospital when he ran down the hall to find him unconscious in the elevator.
It’s always been about Derek. He might have not always been aware of it, but it’s all about him. About them. And there was a time, months back, driving home with tears running down his face, sobbing so hard he had to pull over to the side of the road, that he thought he’d never have any of it.
He does now.
He will forever.
And when it comes to Derek Hale, forever still doesn’t seem long enough.