Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One day, Stiles was going to tell his publisher no. 

No, he was not going to break his wrist, or brain, drawing them something last minute. 

Especially not something specific! 

Like, okay fine, sometimes if they needed things last minute, they told him to just do whatever because it was urgent and they didn’t have time to be picky and vet the line art. While Stiles hated the rush requests, because they made him anxious, he at least liked that he could do as he pleased because they were desperate. 

But every now and then—not often, but once in a blue moon—they sent him a specific request, down to the very last detail, and told him they needed it within twenty-four hours. 

Stiles was not a miracle-worker! Yes, he was fast, but he was a human being who required things like sleep, and food, and general hangouts with friends for his sanity! 

He should’ve said no.

He should have replied back the moment he read the email and insisted that it couldn’t be done, and he wasn’t going to do it. 

The only reason he didn’t do that was... well, coffee. 

Lots and lots of coffee. 

The dollar signs in the email would buy him oh so much coffee. It was almost triple his usual rate, and on top of that, Stiles knew he was always the first artist they went to when they were in a bind. 

If he said no, they might not ask him again. He needed this job, and this money, and these extra rush requests made him so much more money than his usual cover art. 

No matter how many times Stiles told himself he would reject their next unreasonable urgent request—he didn’t. 

Because of the coffee. 

Stiles threw his Wacom tablet pen down onto his desk in frustration and raked both hands through his hair, resting his elbows on the desk and staring at his screen with his hands still buried in his hair. 

This was impossible! This pose was so fucking hard to do just from his own brain, and he didn’t even have the luxury of finding time to locate a suitable reference shot. He only had eighteen hours to draw it, colour it, shade it and render it. 

Sure, he was fast, but this fast?! With such a hard pose? He honestly didn’t think he could do it, and he was starting to get stressed because he’d already spent two hours just trying to do the line art. 

When Stiles bitched and moaned about variety, this was not what he had in mind! 

He could only assume this was a big name author or something, because the publisher was usually so vanilla about their covers, but not this one! Oh no, couldn’t just be a last minute request, it also had to be complicated as fuck! 

It was still one of the usual romance novels, but the cover they wanted was meant to be of a man—a Werewolf, given the characteristics they wanted—throwing another man onto a bed. They wanted the mid-flight shot! Mid-flight! 

He was pretty sure he had the Werewolf’s pose down, but he’d tried to take multiple pictures of himself launching backwards onto the bed and none of them looked right! None of them looked like he’d been thrown, they all just looked flaily and stupid. 

Stiles had already tried calling Scott and Jackson for help, because much as they hated this whole reference shots thing, they always came through when Stiles really needed them. 

Especially when he was panicking. 

Sadly Scott was at Allison’s parents’ cabin for the weekend—though he offered to drive back four hours, bless him, to help out—and Jackson was at a bachelor’s party in Vegas for a university friend—which Stiles had forgotten about until he called him and heard a lot of slot machines. 

Stiles had turned Scott’s offer down, because he’d have felt shitty having him drive a total of eight hours for a photo, but surprisingly it was harder to convince Jackson to stay put, mostly because he seemed to be looking for an excuse to come home and he was more than happy to use Stiles’ emergency. 

Fortunately—or not, in Stiles’ case—Ethan was also in Vegas, and he was actually having a great time, so in no universe would Jackson abandon his husband in a place like that without spontaneously combusting. 

The sad thing was, Stiles’ last hope had been Ethan, since he was sure the guy would’ve come to help him out, but alas, he’d gone along with Jackson. He hadn’t been invited, but he needed a vacation after all the hard work he’d been putting in, so Jackson had booked his room separate from the others in the group so they could stay for the whole week. 

Something Stiles found hilarious now, since Jackson was miserable in Vegas, but he’d do anything for Ethan so it worked out. 

Except it didn’t work out, because Stiles was sans Werewolf to help throw him onto his bed to get a good fucking shot! At this rate, he was one breakdown away from calling Parrish, and that would just be weird! 

Standing up for what had to be the twentieth time, he grabbed his phone and headed back for his room. The tripod and remote for his picture-taking were still in the bedroom, so he just set his phone up once more, angled it as best he could, and then did a few running leaps onto his bed, twisting backwards in mid-air to be in the right position since he was meant to be landing back-first. 

All the shots were horrible when he checked them. 

He exited to grab a chair, trying to see if he could fall backwards onto the bed, but he’d already tried that, too, and hated those pictures even more! 

Giving up, he went back to his study and stood behind his chair as he opened Google and started trying to find a good reference shot. Nothing he searched for was bringing up what the publisher had described, and he didn’t know what to fucking do! 

He was going to have a breakdown. He was going to have an honest to God nervous breakdown. 

And then call Parrish, fuck! 

Pacing back and forth behind his chair, his left hand clenched around his right wrist and pressed against the back on his head, he tried to think of how he could possibly get the shot he needed when movement across the way caught his attention. 

When his eyes caught sight of Derek, he saw the other man was standing in his bedroom, waving one arm. He didn’t usually do anything that big when trying to get Stiles’ attention, so he’d clearly been trying to get it for a while. 

As soon as he realized Stiles was looking, he just pointed out of his room towards the living room. 

Stiles’ eyes shifted to the board, and while he wasn’t quite as close to the window as usual, he could still read the large words. 

‘What’s wrong?’ 

Moving out of his study and into the living room, he grabbed a marker as Derek went to meet him in his own living room across from him. 

‘Can’t get this shot right’ 

Derek seemed to still have the marker in his hand, because Stiles didn’t see him grab for it before the man turned to write on his board. 

‘Reference?’

‘Yeah all my models are out of town’

Derek’s response was instantaneous. 

‘You need 2 people?’ 

Stiles just drew a checkmark on his board before heaving an aggrieved sigh. He started to put his marker down, but noticed Derek was writing on his board. When he moved aside, he turned to look over at Stiles, and even from this distance, Stiles could feel his eyes boring into him. 

‘I can help’

Would Stiles like for Derek to help? 

Yes! So much of the yes! For more reasons than one, even. 

First off, he really needed this reference shot, and Derek was a Werewolf, so he’d be able to pull it off. 

Second, while the pose wasn’t as sexy as usual, it was still kind of suggestive in that Stiles would have to be in Derek’s arms before he got launched. 

Also did he mention he really needed this reference shot? Like, really badly? 

Stiles turned back to his board, grabbing his marker. He uncapped it, hesitated, started to write, erased it, and tried again. 

‘I don’t want to bother you’ 

When he looked back at Derek, the man held one finger up in a ‘wait’ gesture, slapped his marker down, and was out the door so fast Stiles couldn’t have changed his mind even if he’d wanted to. 

Putting his own marker back where it belonged, he went over to his door so he could unlock it, then moved back towards his bedroom. 

He noticed he had dirty clothes on his floor from having missed the hamper—a bad habit of his—and hastily picked them up to drop them where they belonged. His bed was rumpled from his attempts to jump on it, but it also wasn’t made so he hastily got to work making it so it looked somewhat presentable.

He’d just come around the bottom when there was a knock at his door. 

“It’s open,” he called out, moving back into his living room. 

His front door opened and Derek walked in, scowling at him. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.” 

“I only just unlocked it,” Stiles insisted. “I usually keep it locked.” 

Derek said nothing for a moment, then inclined his head slightly with a small scowl. It took a second for Stiles to realize he was likely remembering the fiasco with Jackson. If the door had been unlocked, he wouldn’t have had to blow it off the hinges. 

“How can I help?” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, moving towards his study. “You don’t have to do this. I know it’s kind of weird to do this sort of thing.” 

“I don’t mind,” Derek insisted, following behind him. 

Shrugging, and trying to make like it wasn’t a big deal, Stiles bent over the back of his chair to open his emails, and then leaned back, motioning for Derek to read. 

The Werewolf bent over as well, bracing himself against Stiles’ desk, and the muscles in his arms had Stiles wanting to bite them. God, the guy was fit. 

Then again, he really did a lot of the ups when he worked out. Stiles was pretty sure his legs were muscled and toned given his running habit, so he supposed fair was fair. Derek had muscled arms, and Stiles had muscled legs. 

Not that Derek’s legs weren’t muscled, but Stiles felt like his were more muscled. Was it true? Who knew, but he stood by his decision! 

“Should be easy enough,” Derek said, straightening and crossing his arms. “Though we should do it with your actual bed and not the couch. I’d prefer a larger surface area so I don’t accidentally throw you onto the ground.” 

You could throw me down anywhere you wanted, Stiles thought to himself, and immediately gave himself a mental slap. Now was not the time for his libido to perk up. 

“Yeah, no, I was doing it in my bedroom,” Stiles admitted, thumbing over his shoulder. 

“Lead the way.” 

Stiles had to remind his dick no less than five times as they walked across the apartment that this was not what it was thinking! This was a reference shot, not Derek following him into his bedroom to fuck his brains out. 

God the last thing he needed right now was to smell turned on and have a hard-on. Why was his brain like this? Fuck. 

Entering his bedroom, he motioned it awkwardly before moving to the end of his bed, his phone still where he’d left it in the stand. He grabbed for the remote, and turned in time to see Derek’s eyes inspecting every inch of his room. 

Stiles didn’t understand at first, but then Derek offered him a half-smile and said, “I’ve never seen your room before. You always keep the curtains closed.” 

“Oh.” Stiles turned to look at the drawn curtains. “Right. Yeah, it’s—I mean, my room. Privacy and all that.” 

“Werewolf,” Derek said with a shrug. 

“You’d never close your curtains then?” Stiles asked, mostly out of curiosity. “Like, ever?” 

“I’d close them,” Derek corrected, hands in his pockets as he moved closer to Stiles’ bed. “If I was fucking someone. I don’t like it when other people see what belongs to me.” 

Great. There went his dick. Fantastic. Just what he needed right now. 

He knew Derek could smell the arousal wafting off him, because the Werewolf’s eyes shifted to look at him and the ghost of a smirk started to form on his face. 

The fucker had done that on fucking purpose! 

“You’re a dick,” Stiles informed him. 

“I try,” was the smarmy response.

Stiles flipped him off before using the same hand to motion him over. Much as he wanted to enjoy their banter and continue to berate Derek for being a cocktease, he had a deadline. A tight deadline. He didn’t have time for this. 

Derek obediently wandered over to the end of the bed, Stiles manoeuvring him how he wanted him. Derek allowed himself to be manhandled without complaint, and then Stiles nodded, satisfied. 

“Okay. So you’re good. Set. Excellent.” He paused. “I don’t know how we do this.” 

“I can just pick you up and throw you,” Derek insisted. “I kind of assumed that was the plan.” 

It was before Stiles’ dick got all perked up and interested. He wasn’t sure he wanted to make it that obvious, but before he could even pretend to think of another way to do this, Derek grabbed two handfuls of ass and pulled.

Stiles had no choice but to go with it, because it was that, or fall over trying to keep his footing. He got his ankles around the backs of Derek’s knees and grabbed at his shoulders wildly, not having expected the action. He almost dropped the remote, but managed to keep a firm grip on it, despite also grabbing Derek’s shoulder. 

Even if his dick had started to lose interest, it sure shot back up to attention now! 

“A little warning next time,” Stiles insisted, doing his level best not to be embarrassed that his dick was rubbing against Derek’s toned abs. 

“Just helping move things along,” Derek argued. Stiles just flipped him off again and Derek laughed, jerking his chin slightly. “You ready?” 

“I guess so. Just—don’t launch me through the wall.” 

“I have a bit more self-control than that,” he insisted with a roll of his eyes. 

Stiles didn’t respond to that and got himself ready, waiting for Derek to count them down. On three, he threw Stiles onto the bed while Stiles hit the button on his remote. He bounced once, flailing slightly when he almost bounced right off the bed, but he managed to catch himself. 

Derek moved towards his phone to check the photo, and hummed low in his throat. 

“What?” Stiles asked, rolling off the same side of his bed and moving closer so he could check the photo as well. 

“It’s blurry.” 

Derek was right. Stiles had taken the shot at the worst possible moment, and while there was no guarantee it would be better a second time, he motioned Derek in inquiry, silently asking if he was up for doing it again. When Derek just responded by shifting back into position, Stiles went to stand in front of him again. 

He just jumped up into Derek this time when he was pulled up, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist and gripping his shoulder with one hand, the other still holding the remote. 

Derek threw him a second time, and when they checked the photo, it looked much better. Still a bit blurry, and Stiles looked kind of flaily, but he felt like it should work. 

He turned to thank Derek, but the Werewolf grabbed for his wrist and tugged him towards the end of the bed again. 

“Can I try something?” 

Arching an eyebrow, Stiles motioned for him to go for it. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles once more, and he jumped up into them, legs around his waist again. 

When he shifted ever so slightly to avoid falling, he froze when he felt something hard beneath him. 

Derek didn’t react in the slightest, like he wasn’t at all embarrassed to be rock hard while Stiles had his legs wrapped around his waist. 

Instead, the Werewolf just leaned forward slightly, one hand beneath Stiles’ ass, but the other having moved up to the middle of his back. He leaned forward so much that Stiles felt like he might fall right out of his arms, but he knew he wouldn’t. Derek’s grip on him was firm, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Derek wasn’t going to drop him. 

The new position, with Derek leaning forward like he was and Stiles partially reclined with his help, made it so their faces were inches apart. Stiles could feel Derek’s exhales on his lips and it took all the self-control he had not to close the distance. 

“Ready?” 

Was it his imagination, or did Derek’s voice sound deeper? 

“Yeah.” 

Derek didn’t count them down this time. He just tightened his grip for half a second, and then threw Stiles upwards from the leaned over position so that he wasn’t so much flying through the air, but more being tossed like the publisher wanted. 

He managed to snap the photo, despite his brain being completely checked out, and when he landed on the bed, he barely even bounced. 

As soon as he went still, he looked up at Derek, and found bright red eyes staring down at him from the foot of the bed. 

Oh. So this was what it felt like in all those books. Stiles felt like he finally understood why no one fought back against an Alpha Werewolf. 

If he wanted something, he got it. 

The air felt charged as they stared each other down, Stiles lying on his back on his bed, and Derek looming over him at the foot of it. His jeans were leaving nothing to the imagination, and Stiles was actually wondering if Derek’s dick was going to be okay, being confined so tightly. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how big he was, and those pants were tight. 

After what felt like an age, Stiles slowly shifted to the side of the bed, Derek’s red eyes following him, and he stood. He kept his eyes on Derek as he moved towards his phone, a part of him wondering if the wolf was going to take over and throw Stiles back onto the bed in a different way. 

When he got to his phone, he finally looked away from Derek to check the photo. 

It was perfect. 

Derek’s pose was off, since it wasn’t what the publisher wanted, but he had the other two photos of him that he could use, so it would be easy to use the final shot for the toss, and the others for the position the Werewolf was supposed to be in. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, not looking at Derek. He didn’t even know how he’d managed to get the fucking word out, but somehow, he’d managed it. 

Instead of a grunt, or even a ‘You’re welcome,’ as Stiles had expected, Derek’s next words made no sense. 

“Get out.” 

Stiles looked up at him, confused, and saw that Derek had turned his face away so he was looking across the room at the bathroom. 

“What?” 

“Get. Out,” Derek repeated slowly. “Now.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, since this was his apartment, and his room, but then he caught sight of Derek’s hands. He was slowly but surely growing claws, and a quick glance up at his averted face made it clear his chops had grown out. 

Derek was in the process of wolfing out, and while normally that didn’t mean much, because wolves did that sort of thing, Stiles also knew—courtesy of growing up with two Werewolf best friends—that this was also a sign of them losing control around their mates. It was when the wolf took over completely and they fucked each other’s brains out. 

Well, Jackson and Ethan, and Scott and Allison. Not Scott and Jackson, that’d be weird. 

It took a second for Stiles to recognize the significance of what was going on, and he tensed instantly when he realized—Derek was losing control. 

Derek was literally one wrong move away from actually throwing Stiles down onto the bed and having his way with him. 

Because he was his mate. 

Because Stiles was Derek’s mate. 

And Derek’s wolf wanted to fuck his brains out. 

While Stiles couldn’t say he minded, he was sure Derek didn’t want to do things quite like this. 

Also, he didn’t have time to be freaking out over this revelation, because he had a deadline. 

He had a deadline, and art, and he needed that coffee money. He needed to do this, he didn’t have time to have a meltdown over being Derek’s mate, that had to come later. 

Please God, he needed time to do his job first. 

Stiles didn’t know what the safest route to take was, because going behind Derek meant he’d be close to him, but going in front of him meant he’d be in his line of sight. 

He opted for in front of him, moving to walk across the bed so there was a bit of distance between them. Derek’s eyes remained locked on the bathroom across the room, even as Stiles moved past his line of sight as quickly as he could manage. 

Exiting the room, he hesitated for only a moment before thinking better of what he was about to say and instead going across the apartment to his study. 

He didn’t shut the door entirely, but he closed it slightly so that there was a bit more space between them until Derek managed to calm down. 

Stiles’ dick was still at full attention, but he did his best to ignore it as he plugged in his phone and downloaded the photos. 

Getting to work on the line art, he tried his best not to think about the Werewolf in the other room, just focussing on the task at hand and slowly but surely getting into the zone, his aching dick calming the fuck down before long. He didn’t know how long he was working for, but he’d gotten the line art done, as well as the base colours, before he heard movement in his apartment.

It was slight, since Derek was a Werewolf, and he was pretty sure Derek was heading out, but the next sound he heard was his kitchen cabinet opening and closing, and then the coffee machine started running. He figured maybe Derek was making himself a drink to calm his nerves, and just about had a heart attack when a mug was set down beside him a minute later. 

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, somehow avoiding slamming his own fist into his face. Score, he hadn’t tried to knock himself out, for once. “Warn a guy!” 

“That looks good,” Derek commented, unrepentant. He sounded perfectly calm, and when Stiles glanced up at him, he looked normal, like what had happened in the bedroom hadn’t even happened at all. Maybe it hadn’t and Stiles had just imagined it. “The photo helped then?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, rubbing at his chest where his heart was still pounding against his ribs. “Yeah, it worked. Thanks.” 

Derek grunted in response, then said, “Have you eaten?” 

“Does a handful of goldfish crackers count?” 

The sigh that response elicited was actually kind of impressive. “I’ll go make you some food. I have a quick pasta recipe I can make, and I should have all the ingredients at home for it.” 

“You don’t have—” Stiles started, but the look he got cut off the rest of his sentence. 

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Try not to die of starvation before then.” 

“I promise nothing,” Stiles said, turning to watch Derek walk out of the study. He hesitated only for a moment, then called out. “Derek?” 

The man turned, and Stiles arched his hips to get his keys out of his pocket, tossing them over. Derek caught them with his left hand, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“This way, I don’t have to get up. Lock up on your way out, and let yourself back in when you’re ready.” 

He didn’t miss the way Derek’s hand closed tightly around the keys, like he was going to protect them with his life. He nodded curtly, then turned and left Stiles’ immediate line of sight. The door opened and closed, and he heard the lock sliding home a moment later. 

Turning back to his screen, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to focus now, but given he’d started this with a boner and had somehow managed, he figured he’d get through his mile-a-minute thoughts too. 

Stiles was still working on the colours by the time Derek got back, and he heard him tinkering around in his kitchen, presumably grabbing him a plate and some cutlery. He appeared only moments later, setting a plate of steaming pasta with a cream sauce by his elbow. Stiles thanked him, and would’ve taken a break to be polite, but Derek just turned his head back towards the screen, and pulled up a chair so he could watch while he ate his own food. 

It was oddly comfortable, having Derek sitting there watching him draw. He’d always felt like he’d hate to have someone looking over his shoulder, but he found he actually didn’t mind it. Derek didn’t say anything, he just sat there eating his food, occasionally nudging Stiles’ shoulder to get him to take a bite of his own food. 

Stiles sat there drawing for seven hours, only getting up once to use the bathroom. Every time his coffee cup was empty, Derek went to refill it for him. When Stiles was done with his food, Derek went to wash the dishes. He always came back, sitting in his chair behind Stiles, watching him draw, but he didn’t say anything and he never bothered him. 

When Stiles was finally finished after those long seven hours, he leaned back in his seat, and rolled his head to one side to look over at Derek. He took that as an invitation to move closer, so he stood from his chair and leaned forward, one hand braced against the back of Stiles’ chair, and the other against the desk, eyes on the drawing. 

“Well?” Stiles asked, for some reason feeling like he needed this validation or his world would crumble around him. 

“It’s good,” Derek finally said, making Stiles relax. “Really good. Would’ve been better if you hadn’t changed the models, though.” 

“They gave me characteristics.” Stiles insisted, ignoring the way his heart jerked in his chest at the words. “Besides, did you want yourself on the cover of a book?” 

“I guess it depends on the book,” Derek admitted. 

“True.” Stiles looked back at the artwork, feeling pretty damn proud of himself. 

When Derek said nothing else, Stiles opened his email with the publisher, shoved the piece into a zip file due to its size, and sent it off to them with a brief message. Once that was done, he closed out of his email, closed the art program, and then shut down his computer. 

It took a few seconds before the black screen appeared, and he could see his reflection in it, Derek still standing behind him, braced against his chair and the desk.

“Thanks for today,” Stiles said, speaking to the screen. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know.” 

“There was nothing else I’d rather be doing.” 

“Right.” He didn’t know what else to say. What did someone say in a situation like this?! Stiles was pretty sure Derek had just slipped and shown that Stiles was his mate, which made a lot of things make sense, now that he knew. 

It also explained why Jackson had said what he did. Jackson had probably figured it out when Derek had come to protect him.

“Thanks,” he said, because what the fuck else could he say?! 

Derek was silent for a long while, and then finally pulled away, straightening from his position until Stiles couldn’t see his reflection in the screen anymore. 

“I should go. I’m meant to be meeting Kira in five minutes.” 

“Okay.” Seriously, what was Stiles supposed to say right now?! “Thanks.” 

I swear to God, if you say thanks one more time, he thought angrily, but didn’t have time to dwell on it. Derek’s hand appeared beside him, slowly putting his keys down on the desk beside his own hand, still resting atop the mouse. 

“Don’t forget to lock your door.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Good night, Stiles.” 

“Night.” 

He didn’t hear Derek leave, but he heard the door open and shut. Werewolves were always quiet that way.

Stiles didn’t move for a long while, not until the light across the way turned on and he saw Derek walking through his apartment towards his room. Stiles could tell he was on his phone, one hand up by his ear as he pulled his shirt off, having to move his hand briefly to get it all the way off. 

When he started to tug his pants down, Stiles turned away and got up, snatching up his keys so he could shove them back into his pocket. He went to lock his front door, then stood staring at it for a good two minutes before he turned around and went back to his study. 

Booting his computer back up, he waited for it to start up once more, then opened his art program. As soon as it let him navigate, he clicked on his save files and found the one he wanted, opening the file and staring at the five panels laid out before him. 

He thought for a good long while before scrapping the page entirely and starting over from scratch. 

If nothing else, at least he had reference shots ready for the toss onto the bed. 

Stiles was halfway out of his kitchen with a coffee at his lips when he caught sight of the message and froze. 

It had been two days since the incident in the bedroom, and while he and Derek had gone back to normal with their communications, Stiles couldn’t help but wonder what Derek had done for that whole time he’d been in Stiles’ room alone. 

He knew he hadn’t like, jerked off or anything, because Stiles hadn’t found any cum anywhere, but he really had to wonder what had happened. 

He hadn’t given it too much thought, mostly because Derek’s return to business as usual had kind of made him wonder if he’d been looking into it too much. Maybe Derek was just horny, and this was all a huge misunderstanding. 

The message he walked out to on this Tuesday afternoon made him rethink that. 

‘Dinner? 7?’ 

Stiles walked slowly towards his window, eyes still on the message across the way, wondering if he was reading into it too much. Surely he wasn’t misinterpreting this invite, right? Like, Stiles knew he was a bit of an optimistic person, but this felt a bit more than just ‘Hey, the others are coming over tonight and we’re having hot dogs, wanna come?’ 

And the fact that Derek had asked when he knew Stiles would see it after he’d left for work made it feel like he was avoiding the answer in case it was a negative response. Like he was hoping if Stiles said no that he could come home unnoticed, see the response, and then erase the message like it had never been there. 

Stiles was a master at avoiding things he didn’t want to deal with, so it stood to reason Derek was doing the same thing out of fear. Which—why? Who in their right mind would reject Derek? 

Obviously enough people that he was worried about it. 

He remembered what Derek had told him all those weeks ago about how people didn’t like talking to him. He probably had a hard time making friends, and those he did have were cherished, like Kira, Boyd and Erica. 

And presumably Stiles. 

It must be kind of lonely to be worried about watching what he said or not being himself because he thought people wouldn’t like him. Stiles had never once had any issues with Derek, and while they didn’t often interact in person, he didn’t see why it would be any different via whiteboard. 

He stood staring at Derek’s query for a good long while before giving himself a shake and pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. It was only three, so he still had two hours before Derek got home to get ready, but he needed to reply so that Derek knew the second he got home that, yes, dinner at seven. 

Or six.

Hell, even five if he wanted. Stiles would be ready for whenever! 

Setting his coffee down on the entertainment centre, he grabbed a marker while replacing his phone and uncapped it, writing on the board. 

‘Sure :)’ 

He stared at the response for a long while, then erased it. 

For some reason, that answer felt... too casual. Like he was misunderstanding the invitation—which he really hoped he wasn’t—and he didn’t want Derek to think he had to elaborate or explain. 

Trying again, he wrote something else on the board, staring at it once more when he was done. 

‘Okay’ 

Absolutely not. He erased it even faster than he had the first. That sounded like he didn’t want to go and was just agreeing because he felt like he had to. Or because he felt bad. 

Stiles absolutely wanted to go on this date, so he needed to make that clear. 

‘Yes!!!!’ 

No, that was too much. Maybe one exclamation point? 

‘Yes!’ 

It still didn’t look right! 

He needed to make it clear that, yes, he definitely wanted to go on this date, but not overly eager to the point where he stressed Derek out and he changed his mind. He had to be chill, but looking forward to it. 

Why was this so fucking hard? 

Was Stiles so out of practice that he didn’t know how to accept a fucking date invite? Or was it because he was worried he was misunderstanding? Or because he was still trying to figure out whether the whole mates thing was wishful thinking or actually legit. This was fucking ridiculous, it shouldn’t be this hard! 

Pulling his phone back out, he went to his contacts, scrolling through the names until he found the one he wanted, hitting the call button and putting it to his ear. 

“Hey Stiles.”

“How do I accept a date request?” Stiles asked without so much as a greeting or small talk. He’d have felt bad about it any other time, but considering what he was asking, he was sure the other man wouldn’t take it personally. 

There was a long silence that followed this query. 

“What?”

“My neighbour just asked me out.” Stiles’ gaze rose to look across the way once more. “I mean, I think he did. He just wrote ‘Dinner, seven’ on his board with a question mark. That’s a date, right? Like, you would interpret that as a date?” 

“I mean, I guess so,” was the hesitant reply. “Just accept it if you want to go.”

“That’s the problem!” Stiles insisted. “I don’t know how to accept it! Saying ‘sure’ seems like I’m misunderstanding, and saying something like ‘okay’ seems like accepting is inconvenient or a chore. I tried ‘yes’ but with no punctuation is has the same connotations as ‘okay’ and adding exclamation marks makes me look too eager and I don’t want to scare him away!” 

“I think you’re overthinking this a little bit.”

“I know I am, it’s why I called you!” 

“Yeah, why is it me you called?” Ethan asked. He didn’t sound annoyed, more confused. “Why didn’t you call Jackson or Scott? Not that I’m not happy to hear from you,” he hastened to say. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“The two of them are too territorial to ask,” Stiles argued. “While they’ve mellowed out about Derek, he’s still encroaching on their territory, from their perspective. If I asked them for help, they’d just find a reason to show up and either tag along or not even let me go.”

Ethan’s grunt in response meant he could see Stiles’ point, and probably also agreed, even if he didn’t say so. 

“I can’t ask my dad, because the guy hasn’t been on a date since before I was even a thought, and Allison would probably spend so much time trying to figure out the best response that I’d still be here waiting for an answer by the time Derek got home.” 

“So I’m a last resort, thanks,” Ethan said. There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but Stiles winced regardless. He hadn’t considered how that might seem to him. Ethan wasn’t a last resort by any stretch of the imagination, he was the smartest call, but Stiles could understand where he was coming from given the explanation, even if he wasn’t offended about it. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m just teasing, Stiles,” Ethan insisted, then went silent for a moment. “I don’t really know how to help you. I don’t know the guy, barring what Jackson’s told me, and I think if he’s asking you out, you shouldn’t be worried about how you’re accepting. Just say ‘sure’ and leave it at that.”

“But that sounds like I’m misunderstanding,” Stiles argued. “Like, he has dinner with his friends a lot, what if he thinks I think that he’s inviting me over to hang out with his friends?” 

“I really think you’re overthinking this,” Ethan said on a sigh once more. 

“Well how would you accept?” Stiles insisted. 

“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted. “‘Sounds good, see you later?’ It doesn’t have to be an ode or a love poem. Just accept and if he thinks you misunderstood, then he’ll clarify what he’s asking.”

“But what if he thinks I’m purposefully misunderstanding because I don’t want to go on this date?!” Stiles demanded loudly, one hand burying in his hair. He realized too late it was the hand still holding the uncapped marker and was pretty sure he drew a stripe of black across his forehead. 

Great, something else for him to be self-conscious about. 

“Stiles.” Ethan’s voice was sharp now, snapping him out of his self-inflicted panic. “The guy asked you out because he wants to go out with you. Stop overthinking it, and just reply the way you guys always talk. You’re an eager, excitable person. If you reply with a few too many exclamation points, it’ll just show him you’re still you despite the invite. Stop letting your head turn this into a fight or flight situation. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you need more coffee. Drink some coffee, calm down, and tell the guy you want to go out with him.”

Stiles was quiet for only a few seconds before saying, very quietly, “I think I’m his mate.” 

“So does Jackson.” 

Well, there was that confirmation. Jackson had figured it out, probably before Scott because he was around more. 

“Stiles, he asked you. He wants to go out with you. Just be yourself, that’s what he likes about you.”

“Right,” Stiles said, still looking across the way at the request. “Right, yeah. You’re right.”

“Of course I am, it’s why Jackson never wins an argument with me.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“Tell him. He knows I’m right. I always am.”

Stiles let out a small snort, nodding, despite knowing Ethan couldn’t see him. “Right. Thanks, Ethan.” 

“No problem. And Stiles?” Stiles let out a hum to show he was still there and listening. “Have fun. And get laid. Lord knows you need it.”

“Fuck you.” Stiles grinned, and hung up. 

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he looked back over at the two simple words on the board across from him. Ethan was right, he was overthinking this way too much. Derek was probably more nervous having asked than Stiles should be accepting! It was ridiculous he was getting so worked up about this when Derek had done the hard part. All Stiles had to do was say yes, what did it matter how he said it?

Turning away from the window, Stiles grabbed his coffee and downed the entire mug. It burned slightly, since it was freshly brewed, but it wasn’t so hot that it actually hurt so he just swallowed the whole thing down and set the mug back on the entertainment centre. 

Facing his arch nemesis the window once more, he straightened to his full height, and tried to just be Stiles. 

Which should be easy, since he was Stiles. 

It took him only ten seconds to figure out how to answer, now that he’d calmed slightly—and had some coffee—so he turned to the whiteboard and wrote his response. 

‘Absolutely! See you then :)’ 

There. Excited, but not over the top. Clear and concise, and left no room for interpretation. It clearly showed that, yes, he knew this was a date, and he was looking forward to it. 

Stiles took his phone back out once he’d set the marker down and took a picture of his reply before sending it to Ethan. 

The other man just replied back with a thumbs up, probably to avoid saying something that would have Stiles panic and call him again. 

With that done, Stiles had nothing left to do but wait, which was going to make for a really long day. How was he supposed to be normal when he had a date with Derek in four hours?! He needed to shower, for sure. Not that he was gross or anything, he’d showered yesterday, but he absolutely needed to shower today! 

But not now! It was much too early for a shower now, so he had to figure out what to do until at least five. He could shower around five. Maybe he’d go shower right before Derek got home so there wasn’t any weirdness between them when he saw Stiles’ response on the board. 

Yes, that was a good plan. He should shower right before Derek got home. That way he’d see the message and know Stiles was excited for the date, but he wouldn’t see Stiles being an absolute basket case because—when was the last time he’d been on an honest to God date? 

University, he thought. Sure, he’d hooked up with people every now and then over the years, mostly when he needed a good, hard fuck, but a date? He was pretty sure dates hadn’t come around since Jackson and Scott had become permanent fixtures in his life once more. 

They were too protective, and even Allison had admitted they dissuaded people from getting too close to him. It made sense he would be out of practice at this whole thing, considering he hadn’t been asked out in ages. 

Stiles had never asked anyone out himself because he always felt like most people were standoffish, but he was also starting to wonder how much of that was people being afraid of his two best friends. 

He was going to pay them back for that one day. 

But not today! No, not today, because he had a date! 

“Be normal about this!” Stiles insisted to himself, turning on his heel. He walked into the entertainment centre for all his normalcy talk and winced, rubbing at his left knee before moving around it properly. He paused to grab for his mug, and then went to the kitchen to make himself another cup of coffee. One could never have too much coffee! 

He didn’t have anything due for the publisher right now, since the summer project was officially over, thank God, and they hadn’t sent him any new requests yet. He knew it wouldn’t last long, so he tried to be grateful for the reprieve while he could. 

He supposed he could work on one of the independent authors’ covers for a bit, but they weren’t urgent so his brain wasn’t focussing on them very much. He’d gotten a whole bunch of reference photos for them, and he had a good idea of what he was going to do, but since there was no urgency, he wasn’t feeling inspired. 

Stiles wasn’t going to put it off, especially because these authors had heard about him from word of mouth, but he had literal months so he figured maybe next week or something. He didn’t have to rush, he could do them later. 

As he watched his new coffee drip into his mug, he contemplated working on the comic. He supposed he could do that. He’d been working on it off and on since Derek had suggested it, even if he hadn’t admitted that to him. Derek wouldn’t ask to see it if he didn’t know it was happening, after all. 

He’d tell him eventually, but not right now. 

Deciding he wanted to work on the comic, Stiles grabbed his mug as soon as his machine stopped whirring and then headed for his study.

He’d mostly been working on it out of order as inspiration hit him, but he needed to fill in all the gaps to make it a cohesive story, so while he wanted to immediately draw this part of the story—minus his complete mental breakdown because he was totally chill—he figured he should go back to the beginning. 

Considering he hadn’t even drawn the part leading up to the purchase of the whiteboard, and yet had drawn the first use of it, he really needed to get the story in order before the panels stopped making sense. 

He didn’t know how comic artists did it. Working linearly was killing him, he just wanted to draw the fun parts and have people interpret the rest, but he knew that wasn’t how it worked. 

Walking into his study, he put his mug down and fell into his seat, pulling his phone out of his pocket to set it on the desk beside him. Bringing his computer out of sleep mode and opening all his usual programs, he found the last linear comic page, procrastinating by re-reading the whole beginning, and then opened a fresh page so he could lay it out. 

He wasn’t good at the text yet, since he didn’t know where speech bubbles should be placed, and where thought bubbles or general explanations should be placed, but he was learning. He’d found a really good post on Tumblr a few days back that explained the best way to lay things out and felt like he was doing fairly well following that. 

Getting his mind focussed on the task at hand, he started shaping the layout how he wanted it before he began drawing the rough sketches. He finished his coffee before he even finished lining the second panel, but he didn’t get up to grab another one. He was on a roll, and didn’t want to be distracted. 

The only reason he knew Derek’s return home was looming was because his dad called to ask if he was free for breakfast the following morning, and Stiles caught sight of the time when they hung up. It was close to five-fifteen, and Derek always got home before five-thirty so Stiles hastily saved his work, grabbed his phone, and practically raced across the apartment. 

He made it into his bedroom without seeing movement across the way, so he knew he’d gotten into the shower before Derek’s return home, which was the goal. 

While he didn’t want to take ten years in the shower, he still washed up exceptionally well. He washed his hair twice, then lathered himself with soap, scrubbing more vigorously than usual. While a part of him didn’t even know why he was being so aggressive about his hygiene, another part of him was subconsciously trying to make sure he didn’t reek of Scott or Jackson. He hadn’t seen them in two days, and he hoped they didn’t stop in unexpectedly today, but he knew their scents lingered because of how often they scented him. 

It had taken almost a month for Scott’s scent to leave him when he went to university. The only reason Jackson’s was already gone was because he’d graduated a year earlier. 

And in Stiles’ defence, he hadn’t even known he still smelled like Scott until his roommate’s Werewolf girlfriend told him that was why she was always nervous around him. He smelled like he belonged to an Alpha, and she’d been worried to do anything that would cause problems for herself. 

While Stiles doubted he’d get all their scents off—which he wouldn’t do anyway, because he didn’t mind smelling like his friends—he at least didn’t want to be saturated with their scents when he was about to go on a date with another Werewolf. 

After a good half hour in the shower, Stiles felt like he was going to turn into a prune if he stayed much longer so he finally shut off the water and stepped out. He got water all over the floor, but didn’t worry about it too much, grabbing for his towel and drying off. He rubbed vigorously at his hair before hanging the towel back up. When he glanced in the mirror, his hair was sticking up every which way and he moved forward to get it into some semblance of order still buck naked. 

When it looked decent enough, he went into the bedroom to grab some boxers, but when he went to find clothes, he paused. 

He didn’t know what the plan for dinner was. If he was just heading to Derek’s, he’d wear something nicer than usual, but it’d still be fairly casual. If they were going out to a restaurant, he needed to know what the dress code was. 

Wandering out into the living room in his underwear, he looked across the way but couldn’t see Derek anywhere. He knew he was home, because the board’s message had been replaced with a smiley face, but the man himself was missing. 

Stiles walked further through his apartment, heading closer to his study, but he didn’t know why he was trying to check for Derek’s bathroom door as an indicator of him being in there, because the guy never closed it. It made sense, since the toilet was out of sight, and given Derek walked around naked sometimes, what did he care if people saw him getting out of the shower? 

He was pretty sure that was where Derek was though, so he just went to his board, about to write a new message when he saw waving out of his peripheral vision. Turning to his window, he saw that Mason was back from class, and waving for his attention. When it was obvious he had it, Mason held a piece of paper against his window and pointed at it emphatically. 

Stiles squinted, moving closer to the glass, but the word was much too small from this far away on one single sheet of paper. He felt like it was written smaller than usual, since it wasn’t usually this hard to read. 

Turning to head back for his room, he held one finger up to Mason in a ‘wait’ motion so he’d know he wasn’t being ignored, and went to hunt down his phone. 

Returning with it in hand, he opened the camera function so he could zoom in. He was still so thankful he had a good phone camera, because instead of getting all blurry and pixelated, it actually zoomed in and he gave Mason a look when he realized what he’d asked. 

‘Date? ;)’ 

Clearly he’d guessed based on Stiles’ response, or maybe he and someone on Stiles’ side had become friends so that they could keep each other updated on the budding friendship between Derek and Stiles. 

Actually, that would be kind of funny, if Mason had found someone on this side of the building specifically so he could know what Derek was saying, given they were neighbours and thus he couldn’t read his board. 

Stiles was sure more than one person was invested in this weird relationship they had going, they just weren’t as outgoing as Mason. Or maybe they just didn’t want to make it as obvious, but Mason was just a kid, and he clearly found this whole thing entertaining. 

And he was well raised, honestly. Despite the parties he always threw when his parents were out of town, he did clean up after himself, and he always went to class. He’d also been the only person to actually ask if Stiles was okay after the fiasco between Derek and Jackson, and he just seemed like an all around nice person. Stiles didn’t mind that he was invested in their friendship, but he would need to mind his business about their budding romance. 

Turning to the board, he grabbed a marker, and uncapped it with the hand holding his phone. He wrote a message down, then turned to give Mason a look he probably couldn’t see, but could guess at given his words. 

‘Mind your business’ 

Mason held both hands up in defeat, but Stiles could tell he was grinning. Shaking his head, he erased what was on his board to write his message to Derek, and by the time he finished and started to head back for his room, Derek had walked out of his bathroom—buck naked, as usual—towel-drying his hair. 

Stiles waited where he was while Derek read his query, then the Werewolf headed for his whiteboard to reply.
 
It occurred to him that they should eventually exchange numbers so they could text like normal people, but he kind of liked the whiteboard. It was their thing, and he didn’t want to lose it. Besides, all the people invested in their relationship would be sad if they couldn’t keep up to date. 

Derek finished writing his response on his board, turned to make sure Stiles was still there, then motioned back towards his room, presumably to change. 

‘Dress code?’ 

‘Whatever you’re comfortable in’ 

Stiles figured he’d wear dark jeans and a nice shirt, then. At least it would look formal without being formal. 

He went back to his own room, taking his time looking for his nice pair of dark jeans. He had multiple pairs but he knew he had a few rips in most of them, so he wanted the nice pair. It didn’t take him as long as he thought it would, and he pulled them on before hunting down a shirt. 

Perusing his closet, he found a maroon button-down shirt that he didn’t even remember owning, but it looked good with the jeans when he tried it on. Shrugging, he tucked it in, then decided he looked weird and untucked it. He found a pair of comfortable black sneakers, moving to put them by the front door since he wasn’t leaving yet. 

With his phone and wallet put in his pockets, and his keys on the hall table, he was ready to go. 

A full hour and then some early. 

“Eager much?” he asked himself with a snort, glancing across the way. He tried not to make it obvious, wanting to see where Derek was at in the getting ready routine.

The Werewolf was standing in the middle of his living room, fully dressed and texting on his phone. Clearly he was also ready to go. 

Derek looked good, even from this distance. It looked like he was wearing black jeans, the same as Stiles, along with a soft green long-sleeved Henley. Stiles knew it would make his eyes pop. 

As if he felt eyes on him, Derek looked up, finding Stiles also standing in the middle of his living room, unmoving. 

Derek shoved his phone into his pocket and went to his board, Stiles mirroring him so they were across from each other. 

‘Ready?’ 

Stiles just nodded in response, so Derek turned back to his board, and wrote beneath his other message. 

‘Wanna head out now?’ 

Despite his heart beginning to pound in his chest, Stiles nodded a second time and Derek nodded back. He motioned his door, and Stiles concluded that to mean they would meet at the elevator. He gave a thumbs up, and turned to head around the entertainment centre so he could make his way to the door. 

Getting his shoes on, he left his apartment, locking up behind him, and let out a slow breath before starting down the corridor. This was fine, and totally chill. He was just going on a date for the first time since university, no big deal. 

Except it was, because he seemed to be Derek’s mate and Stiles himself actually really liked Derek. Their friendship may have started unconventionally, but it was still a friendship, and he didn’t want to fuck this up. He just hoped that he didn’t do anything stupid over dinner. 

When he rounded the corner at the end, Derek was already at the elevators. He had his arms crossed, as always, and looked a bit tense. Stiles felt a little more relaxed at the sight, only because it meant Derek was just as nervous as he was. 

Smiling and trying to stifle his nerves, since Derek being attuned with his chemosignals would probably make him more nervous, he moved up beside him and gave him a once-over. 

He’d already noticed the outfit from across the way, but he caught sight of the boots Derek had on and whistled. 

“Nice boots.” 

“Thanks. You look good.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles beamed at him. “You look good too. I probably should’ve said that. I was thinking it in my apartment.” 

“Me too.” Derek paused. “About you.” 

“I figured.” He nudged him lightly, then reached out to hit the ‘down’ button. “So where are we—”

“This is a date.” 

Stiles turned back to Derek when he said this and found the Werewolf scowling. He still had his arms crossed, but it was obvious he was even more tense than he had been when Stiles had come around the corner. 

Evidently Stiles’ fears that Derek might think he misunderstood were founded, but a part of him didn’t know if Derek was reiterating it, or was just being sure Stiles understood it was a date. 

Normally, he’d have made a joke. Like, “You mean you didn’t notice I was wearing my nice shirt?!” or something. 

But Derek looked so uncomfortable that Stiles figured right now wasn’t the moment for jokes. 

“This is a date,” he said instead, both in confirmation of his understanding, and his acceptance. 

Derek relaxed ever so slightly and they both looked over at the elevator doors when they opened. There was a woman already in the lift with a toddler in a stroller and she smiled at them. Stiles smiled back and walked in, Derek moving in behind him. They both stood on one side of the elevator, leaving enough room for the woman and her stroller. 

When the lift started moving once more, Derek leaned over and hit the P1 button, since the woman and her kid were exiting on the ground level. They waited in silence until the elevator stopped, and when the doors opened, the woman smiled at them. 

“Have a good evening.” 

“Enjoy your night,” Stiles returned with a smile. Derek just nodded to her as she exited. 

Once the doors were closed again, Stiles nudged Derek lightly, making him look over at him. 

“Relax. It’s just me.”

“I know,” Derek said, looking back at the numbers as the lift stopped on the first parking level. “That’s why I hate this.” 

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “You hate this?” 

Derek turned back to him sharply, the doors open but neither of them moving. 

“No, I don’t—I just mean—” 

“I’m just teasing you,” Stiles insisted, offering another smile and hitting him in the arm before reaching out to stop the door from closing, since it had started to. “Come on.”

They headed out of the elevator and Derek held the inner door into the garage open for him. Stiles looked around for Derek’s car, since he knew what it looked like, but Derek touched his elbow lightly and motioned him towards the ramp. Derek’s car was likely in the space between P1 and P2 if they were heading down the ramp. 

As they walked, Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced over at him. “Why are you so nervous? You were all smarmy and teasing the other day.” 

Derek was quiet for a few steps before finally saying. “That’s why I’m nervous.” 

When Stiles arched an eyebrow in inquiry, Derek scowled, like he hated having to explain. 

“I lost control.” 

“No you didn’t.” 

“I could’ve done something irreversible.” 

“Maybe, but you didn’t. And I think it’s pretty obvious we’re on the same page.” Stiles motioned between them. 

“Are we?” Derek asked, so quietly Stiles wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear. 

He glanced at Derek briefly, then tried to think of the best way to say his next words. When he couldn’t figure it out, he just said it. 

“I know what a mate is, Derek.” Stiles saw him tense out of the corner of his eye, so he continued in an attempt to showcase that, yes, they were on the same page in all regards. “Besides, my two oldest, closest friends are Werewolves. I’ve seen basically every iteration of a Werewolf losing control.”

That had Derek turning to him sharply, and Stiles realized his misstep, holding both hands up in surrender. “Not like that. Nothing sexual. Well, not with me, at any rate. But I’ve seen them with their mates, and sometimes—well, let’s just say I always know when it’s time to head out. I don’t always make it out of the house in time.” 

Stiles let out an over-exaggerated shudder in an attempt to lighten the mood. He wasn’t entirely sure it succeeded, but Derek didn’t look quite as tense anymore. 

They reached his sweet ride only a few seconds later, Derek unlocking the doors to his sleek black Camaro with the press of a button. Stiles whistled appreciatively as he got into the car and shut the door. 

“Nice ride. If you’re trying to impress me, it’s working.” He over-exaggerated his wink as well. 

Derek rolled his eyes, sticking his key into the ignition. “I’ve seen you in a Porsche.” 

“Jackson’s had that Porsche for so long, it’s basically a Honda to me.” Stiles shrugged. That earned him an arched eyebrow from Derek and he made a face. “Don’t tell Jackson I said that.” 

“Might tell Jackson you said that.” 

“Dick.” Stiles shoved at his shoulder, smiling slightly, and was relieved to see Derek smiling as well. 

Not a complete loss then. Derek was starting to get back to his usual self, so Stiles leaned back comfortably in his seat as Derek backed out of his spot and turned the car around so they could head out. 

He was glad Derek was less nervous, and hopefully, as the evening progressed, he would recognize Stiles literally did not care about any of his weirdness, because Stiles was weird too. 

They could be weird together. 

Stiles was actually concerned with how well their evening was going. Derek wasn’t the chattiest person at the best of times, but as his sister had said—and Stiles himself had already surmised—as soon as he got onto a topic he was interested in, he could talk forever. 

He kind of loved it. Seeing this side of Derek felt almost forbidden, and as they chatted over bowls of delicious, creamy pasta, Stiles was so glad Derek felt comfortable enough with him to be himself. 

Every now and then, he seemed to realize he was talking a lot, but before he could get weird about it and stop, Stiles would ask him another question or move him in another direction, but still stay on topic so Derek didn’t think he was trying to make him stop talking. 

He didn’t want him to stop talking, because Derek had so many interesting things to say, and he was kind of a nerd, but like, in a good way. In an adorable way. Stiles kind of loved him, which was a scary thought when he considered they didn’t know one another very well.

Except they did, because they’d been friends for a while, just not in the conventional sense. Every time his brain insisted they barely knew each other, the louder part of his brain would flip a table and argue that Stiles knew a lot about Derek. 

Which he did. And Derek, in turn, knew a lot about him, too. It was startling, but in a good way. Kind of like having a long-distance friendship, only their distance was literally the other side of the building.

And if Derek could figure out this soon into their friendship that Stiles was his mate, which was a much bigger commitment, then Stiles figured that the fact that he might love Derek wasn’t exactly the strangest thing to come out of this evening.  

They were halfway through dessert—cheesecake for Derek, tiramisu for Stiles, because coffee—when the other man let out a small laugh and shook his head. 

“What?” Stiles asked. 

“Nothing. You just have good friends, is all.” 

Stiles didn’t understand for all of five seconds, and then he whipped around. He wouldn’t have noticed them if they hadn’t moved hastily to get out of sight. 

Well, two of them did. The other two just smiled, one of them waving. 

Jackson and Scott were sitting at a table halfway across the restaurant with Ethan and Allison. Jackson had hastily hidden behind a menu when Stiles had turned, and Scott pretended to have dropped something, and was probably flat on the floor behind the table. 

Their spouses didn’t seem to have the same concerns about being seen, and Stiles waved back at Allison, who was beaming at him. 

While he wanted to be annoyed at them for having followed, he also kind of loved them a little bit. Not only had Jackson put aside some of his animosity over Allison for the sake of checking up on Stiles, but they’d actually kept their distance. 

He was kind of amazed neither of them had spontaneously combusted at having to stay all the way over there, but he was grateful.

“How long have they been there?” Stiles asked, turning back to Derek. 

“Twenty minutes, maybe? I’m impressed they’ve stayed at their table this whole time. Wolves are territorial.” 

“Tell me about it.” Stiles snorted, turning back to his friends. Jackson was still hiding behind his menu like an idiot, and Scott had partially sat up so he was at least sitting in his chair, but trying to stay hidden behind Allison. “Thanks.” 

Ethan just nodded in acknowledgement, since the other two were pretending they hadn’t even noticed Stiles was there. This was all just a huge coincidence, clearly, all of them at the same restaurant.

Stiles wondered how many calls they’d made to try and figure out where they were. That, or they’d had his dad trace his phone. 

“They’re good friends,” Derek said again, Stiles facing him once more. “They care about you.”

“I care about them too,” Stiles admitted. “Though I don’t know what this means.”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “Means?” 

Stiles waved over his shoulder. “Allison says they’ve been chasing away potential partners for years because no one is allowed to have me, or whatever. Says a lot about you.” 

“I’m an Alpha,” Derek said, shrugging. 

“So’s Scott.” 

“Maybe, but I was born as one. Wolves care that those that matter to them are safe.” 

“Well, you’ve already proven you’ll do anything to keep me safe,” Stiles said with a small smile. 

Derek didn’t say anything in response to that, and while Stiles knew he was thinking about his misstep, Stiles would forever view it as proof he was a good person. He kicked him lightly under the table to force his mind back to safer waters and figured he’d just ask the question he had, even though he could tell Derek was still a bit nervous about the whole thing. 

“Is it because I’m your mate?” 

“No,” he admitted, eyes skirting past Stiles, as if worried about the reaction from his friends. Jackson already knew, according to Ethan, and Stiles was sure he’d told Scott, so it wasn’t a secret. “Wolves will be territorial regardless. It fades in time when there’s a mate involved, but that wouldn’t be the main reason.” 

“Hm,” Stiles said, then shrugged. “Born Alpha wolf it is, then.” 

Derek half-smiled at that, mostly seeming pleased that his friends were staying back, and Stiles asked him about his book club, because Derek loved to read and he had a fucking book club at work and it was adorable. 

It was easy to forget his friends were behind him, because they kept their distance, and Stiles liked to think it was because they could see he was having a good time. Which he was. Derek was great. 

When they finished their desserts, Stiles didn’t want to start a fight about the check, so he started right off the bat with a compromise. He wanted to pay for Derek’s meal, and Derek could pay for his. He could tell Derek wasn’t happy about it, since he’d obviously wanted to pay for dinner as a whole, but Stiles made his argument so reasonable—he was taking Derek out, and vice versa—that it was hard for Derek to argue with him.

As such, he acquiesced and when the waiter came by to pick up their plates, they asked for separate bills. Doing it that way meant they could just swap bills and pay for each other.

“I have to take a leak,” Stiles informed Derek as he got to his feet. He pointed a finger at him in warning, going for his best impression of his father. “If I come back and both bills are paid, I’ll make you regret it.” 

Derek just smirked, but Stiles motioned his eyes, then Derek in a clear ‘I’m watching you’ sort of way, and hurried towards the bathroom. Not because he was in a rush to use the facilities, but because he didn’t trust Derek not to take his threat seriously. 

Hurrying into the bathroom, he moved up to a urinal to do his business, then went to wash his hands. He was in the process of drying them when the door opened. The person who walked in wasn’t who he expected. 

“You tie him to his chair or something?” Stiles asked as Ethan moved up beside the sink, hands in his pockets.

“Threatened to withhold sex. Allison, too.” 

Stiles turned to him, placing one wet hand against his chest. “Oh my God, you guys actually love me!” 

Ethan shook his head, a small smile on his face. “I can’t believe you didn’t send me a photo of your outfit.” 

“Why?” Stiles asked, feeling self-conscious. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing. I just figured after our call that you’d be a nervous wreck and send me a million pictures asking for help.” 

“Didn’t think of it, to be honest.” Stiles reached out for some paper towel to dry his hands, eyes on Ethan. “Thanks, though. I mean it. Thanks for keeping them in check.” 

“Contrary to how they act sometimes, they do want you to be happy,” Ethan insisted. “They just don’t want to lose you. And I know they won’t,” he continued quickly before Stiles could say anything. “I think a part of them knows it, too. But—Werewolves.” 

“Werewolves,” Stiles agreed, knowing all too well they couldn’t help it. “Still. I appreciate you and Allison keeping them at bay so I can enjoy my date.” 

Ethan inclined in his head slightly, implying it was no big deal when they both knew it was. Jackson and Scott would take a while to warm up to Stiles having yet another Werewolf in his life, but they’d get over it eventually. 

And again, this was forcing Jackson and Allison to spend time together, so Stiles saw it as a win. 

“I should...” Stiles thumbed over his shoulder and Ethan nodded. When he turned to exit the bathroom, he paused when Ethan called out to him. 

“Stiles?” 

He turned back to his friend, and couldn’t help the small frown on his face when he saw the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. 

“Make sure he wears a condom. Trust me. He’s not only a Werewolf, but an Alpha. You’ll be shitting cum out for weeks.” 

“Oh my—thank you. For that visual.” Stiles flipped Ethan off, shoving out of the bathroom, and he dutifully ignored the laughter coming from behind him. 

When he got back to the table, not only had Derek obediently left the second bill for him, but it was obvious he’d heard Ethan because he was very clearly trying not to laugh. 

“You’re wrong, my friends suck.” 

“From where I’m sitting, he did you a favour.” 

Stiles flipped Derek off, ignoring the actual laugh that escaped him now, and just pulled his wallet out when the waiter headed back their way with the card machine, having evidently noticed Stiles’ return. 

He paid for Derek’s meal, the man thanking them both for their patronage before disappearing, presumably to wait other tables and hopefully earn more tips. 

“Shall we?” Derek asked, and Stiles stood in answer. 

When they headed for the door, Derek—like the asshole he was—waved to Stiles’ four friends with a charming smile on his face. Allison waved back with a brilliant smile, and Ethan raised one hand briefly in a small farewell. Jackson and Scott were still pretending they had no idea Stiles was even there. 

Werewolves. They were so fucking ridiculous. 

They walked out of the restaurant together, Stiles smiling to the hostess when she thanked them for coming and wishing her a good night. The Camaro was parked in the lot out back, so it took them no time to reach it and climb in. 

Derek put his key in the ignition, but before he turned it, he looked over at Stiles, and his expression was so serious that it kind of made him nervous. 

“I don’t want to be presumptuous, so I have to ask,” Derek said seriously. “Can I drive you home?” 

Stiles stared at him for half a second before reaching out to smack him. Derek’s expression cracked and he let out a small laugh before starting the car and shifting into reverse. 

“You’re an asshole.” 

“What did you think I was going to say?” Derek asked. 

“I don’t know. ‘Did you have a good time’ or something.” 

“You had a good time,” Derek said, and Stiles glanced at him, seeing a small, genuine smile on his face as he eased them onto the main road.

“Oh yeah? And you know this for a fact?” Stiles demanded, arching an eyebrow. 

“I do.” 

“And how’s that?” 

“Because,” Derek explained, glancing at him. “If you weren’t having a good time, your friends would’ve come to save you.” 

Damn, this guy was good. “Touche.” 

Derek smirked, but it was a smaller one than usual. Kind of like a soft smirk, it was both infuriating, and hot. Infuriatingly hot? Sure, why not. 

The drive back was conducted in comfortable silence. Stiles knew he could’ve asked Derek more questions to get him going again, but he’d made Derek talk enough tonight, so he figured he’d give him a break. 

Every time he glanced over at Derek when they stopped—a red light, a stop sign, someone parking, whatever—he saw him smiling ever so slightly before he forced himself to school his features. It was like he didn’t want Stiles to know he was happy. 

“Did you have a good time?” Stiles finally thought to ask as they neared their apartment building. 

He thought Derek might make a joke about it, like say he’d been miserable the whole time or something, but he just turned to offer Stiles one of those private smiles and said, “I had a great time.” 

God, this guy was going to be the absolute death of him! How could someone with Resting Bitch Face look so damn soft when he was happy and comfortable with someone? 

Stiles felt hot all over at the look and forced himself to glance out the window as Derek got them into the underground parking. It didn’t take long to get through the gate and into Derek’s spot, and they both climbed out, heading towards the elevator together. 

Swiping his fob to get the door open, Stiles held it for Derek, then followed him into the alcove the elevator was located in, the two of them waiting for it to arrive. They entered without a word, Derek hitting the fourth floor. 

When the lift doors opened again and they stepped out, Stiles turned to Derek, unsure of what to say or how to end this night, because he kind of didn’t want it to end—and by ‘kind of,’ he absolutely didn’t want it to end, but he was trying to be chill about it in his own head. 

Derek beat him to it, looking him straight in the eyes before saying, “I have coffee.” 

Stiles didn’t understand for about half a second, then he jerked like he’d been slapped and grinned at Derek. 

“I have coffee too,” he argued. 

The way Derek’s shoulders sagged slightly made him realize the other man had misunderstood. Stiles wasn’t rejecting the obvious invite, he was just teasing him. 

“What else you got?” Stiles asked quickly, not wanting Derek to think he didn’t want to go over. He should’ve just accepted instead of being a shit, but thankfully his question had Derek realize he wasn’t rejecting this, he was just—being a shit. Which he was.  

“A comfortable bed,” Derek offered with a small smirk. 

“Mm, tempting.” Stiles tapped his index finger against his lips, as if in thought. “But mine’s pretty comfortable too. Anything else?” 

Derek didn’t even try for subtlety with his next one. “Lube.” 

“Yup, your place it is.”

That had Derek laugh, and he let Stiles manhandle him around so they were both facing the right way. Stiles pushed him for a few steps before moving up alongside him, the two of them walking together. 

Stiles didn’t think it was his imagination that Derek kept increasing in speed ever so slightly as every second passed. 

They made it to Derek’s apartment in record time, his keys already out since he’d pulled them from his pocket halfway down the corridor. He pushed open the door once it was unlocked, letting Stiles go in first. 

Stiles barely made it across the threshold when Derek grabbed for him and yanked his face closer, crushing their lips together. He was kissing Stiles like he’d been waiting his entire life for this moment, and if that wasn’t the hottest thing in the world, Stiles didn’t know what was. 

One hand left his face and he heard a ‘click,’ suggesting Derek had just locked the door behind himself before the hand returned. Probably a good call, he doubted Derek’s friends were like his, wandering in unannounced. 

Actually, now he would have to make doubly sure he like, installed a chain or something so that his friends—or worse, his dad—didn’t barge into his apartment unannounced while he was getting railed by his hot Werewolf boyfriend. 

Not that Derek was his boyfriend, but he was Derek’s mate, right? So like—

Stiles pulled their lips apart, the whine that left Derek at that going straight to his dick. 

“Not to be all high school or anything, but we’re like, dating now, right?” 

“You’re mine forever,” Derek informed him and dove back in, both hands still on his face. 

Stiles had never kissed anyone this way before. Derek was leaning into him so hard that Stiles kept feeling like he needed to take a step back. That, or he needed a wall to lean against. Derek was aggressive, but not in a violent way. More in a desperate way. 

It was actually getting to a point where Stiles couldn’t breathe anymore and he pulled back, gasping for air. Derek wasn’t deterred, since Stiles turning away like he had put his neck on full display. 

Something Derek liked, if the low growl that escaped him was anything to go by, and he leaned in to bite and suck along the column of his throat. That was also when Derek’s hands left Stiles’ face and travelled down. 

While Stiles hadn’t read many of those romance books he drew art for, he knew it was common in those books for the men to tear clothes off women, or each other depending on the book, so he expected Derek to rip all his buttons loose so Stiles could comment on it being his favourite shirt—even though it wasn’t—and they could have some sexy banter. 

What Derek did instead was ten times hotter, because he just ever so slowly began to undo each and every single button, his mouth following his hands down and sucking hard all along his chest down to his stomach. 

Stiles was going to have hickeys in places he didn’t even know could have hickeys! 

Derek was back on his feet in an instant, and Stiles started to shrug off his shirt when Derek grabbed his arm. 

“Bedroom,” he said, already tugging Stiles in that direction. He almost lost his footing, but managed to keep up with Derek despite the other’s speed. At least he hadn’t gone full Werewolf speed on him, though it looked like it was taking a considerable effort for Derek to stay in control. 

Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing that control crack. 

As soon as they were through the door, Derek slammed it, like he was worried they’d be interrupted, and then he yanked Stiles’ shirt off, tossing it aside as if it were offensive to him. 

Before he could move back in for another kiss, Stiles grabbed at the back of Derek’s Henley and tugged. Derek obediently moved his arms into a position that made it easier for Stiles to pull the damn thing right off, and was a bit disheartened to see a white tank underneath. Too many layers, how annoying. 

The annoyance only lasted a split second though, because Derek reached up and ripped it right down the middle, wrenching the ripped material right off his body, as if it offended him as much as Stiles’ shirt had. 

Well, even if Derek did end up ripping clothes, Stiles at least acknowledged it was like, the easiest thing to replace. And probably something Derek had in abundance. 

Derek moved back in, kissing him hard, tongue in his mouth, and Stiles let his blunt nails drag along Derek’s toned abs. Derek’s own hands had found the button for his jeans, and he made quick work of getting them undone, pulling the fly down and reaching right into the front of his boxers. 

“Oh Jesus,” Stiles blurted out against Derek’s lips. 

“He won’t be the one making you moan tonight,” was Derek’s smarmy response. 

“I sure as fuck hope not,” Stiles replied, and his own hands fumbled for the front of Derek’s pants even as the other man wrapped his hand around Stiles’ incredibly hard dick as best he could with the limited space and began to pump. 

Stiles was making the worst noises in the world, half-curling in on himself as Derek squeezed and pumped in exactly the right way. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to last long if things continued like this. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Stiles to get Derek’s pants undone, and he yanked at them hard even as Derek kept working his dick. The hem of the boxer-briefs Derek always wore were literally being pulled away from his skin with how hard his dick was, and that only reinforced Stiles’ belief that Werewolves had super-dicks.

God, he couldn’t wait to get railed by this man. 

When he felt his stomach begin to tighten, Stiles let out another embarrassing noise and reached down to grip Derek’s wrist, hard. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, I’m not gonna last if you don’t stop.” 

The smirk that spread across Derek’s face then was both terrifying, and the absolute hottest thing Stiles had ever seen in his life. 

“If you think you’re only coming once tonight, you’re in for a rude awakening.” 

With that, Derek tightened his grip further and began pumping hard and fast. Stiles felt like this was going to be an evening full of embarrassment, because he didn’t last longer than twenty seconds. Who could blame him?! He’d been without sex for what felt like years, and Derek was clearly some kind of Wizard alongside being a Werewolf, except his magical skills pertained only to sex. 

Stiles groaned long and low, leaning forward so his forehead was against Derek’s shoulder as he came, his entire body jerking as he thrust lazily forward into Derek’s hand. The other was rubbing along Stiles’ sweaty back soothingly, and Derek’s lips were pressed against the side of his head. The part of it he could reach, at any rate, given Stiles’ position. 

When he was sure Stiles was done, Derek pulled his hand free, and while Stiles still had his head against his shoulder, he was pretty positive that what he was hearing was Derek sucking the cum from his own fingers. 

“Remember my dad is a cop, and my two best friends are Werewolves,” Stiles said, voice muffled. “If you kill me, they’ll come for you.” 

“Not if you die happy,” Derek argued, and Stiles couldn’t help the slight jerk when he felt Derek’s hand back at his waist. He was so not ready for round two yet, but considering Derek hadn’t even had his own first round, this was probably going to be a long night. 

A long, amazing, fucking for the ages night. 

God, he was so looking forward to it. 

Derek toed lightly at Stiles’ left shoe with the tip of his boot. “Take off your shoes.” 

“You expect me to be able to move right now?” Stiles demanded. “You know you’re the only thing holding me up, right?” 

“I can take them off for you, then.” 

Before Stiles could say anything, Derek picked him up off the ground by his ass, and threw him onto the bed in almost the exact same way they’d taken the picture last week. Stiles felt like Derek had done that on purpose, but didn’t have time to dwell on it, because his shoes were being yanked off, then his socks, and his pants followed soon after, Stiles having to lift his hips up off the bed to help. 

His boxers felt gross and sticky, but he didn’t have long to worry about it, since they were pulled off only moments later, though he did feel some of the cum rubbing off along his legs on their way down. Derek didn’t seem to be bothered by that as much as Stiles was, considering he bent down and began to lick his way up the inside of Stiles’ thighs, sucking the cum off his skin. 

Stiles let out a small grunt when Derek’s face was between his legs, lips brushing along his sensitive dick. He reached down with one hand, struggling to catch his breath from the overload of—well, everything, but Derek either misinterpreted the action or he didn’t let it stop him because Stiles’ dick was in his mouth a second later. 

“Oh fuck!” Seriously, the whines leaving him tonight were going to haunt him to his dying day.

At the rate things were going, that would be today. 

Derek sucked hard at Stiles’ dick, coaxing it back to full hardness with an expertise Stiles felt should’ve been fucking illegal, and yet. One of his hands was holding Stiles’ left hip down, and the other had reached past his balls, thumb pressing hard against his perineum. 

He was positive Derek’s goal in this moment was just to get him hard again before the fucking, and that he’d stop once Stiles was close to the edge. 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

Stiles was pulling so hard at Derek’s hair he was pretty sure he yanked a few strands loose, and his hips couldn’t figure out if they wanted to push up further into Derek’s mouth for release, or pull away in an attempt to stop the overstimulation. His knees bent of their own accord, bracketing Derek’s face between them, and he let out an exhale of Derek’s name as he came a second time in what felt like ten seconds, but was definitely not ten seconds. 

God, how was it his orgasms felt endless and instantaneous at the same time? 

Jesus fuck, was this the Werewolf sex he’d been missing out on his whole life? Or was this just purely Derek? 

They hadn’t even gotten around to the fucking part yet, and he knew that Werewolves had insane stamina. He was both looking forward to the hard pounding, but also kind of terrified of it because he’d just come twice and he didn’t know if he was up for a third so quickly. 

When Derek kept sucking on his extremely oversensitive dick, like he was trying to suck every last fucking drop of cum out of it, Stiles tugged a bit harder and closed his legs around Derek’s head. He couldn’t get his voice to work, so this was the best he could do to beg for mercy. 

Thankfully, Derek seemed to recognize he was desperately asking for a reprieve, so he pulled away with an extra hard suck that had another sharp sound escape Stiles’ lips. 

“Still with me?” Derek asked, sounding immeasurably pleased with himself. 

“We’re not married yet, you won’t get any of my shit if I die,” Stiles managed to force out. 

“Can’t wait for words to lose all meaning when you’re coming for the tenth time tonight.” 

“Tenth?!” Stiles demanded, but didn’t have time to dwell on it since Derek had sat up, both elbows beneath Stiles’ knees, and he yanked him down so that Derek’s clothed dick was pressed right up against his ass. 

Derek still had his jeans on, though they were low on his hips, giving his dick room, though it was still trapped in the confines of his boxer-briefs. 

Barely though, Stiles was impressed the seams didn’t rip. That really was a huge dick, he couldn’t wait for that to be inside him. Did Werewolves just have naturally larger dicks, or was this a Derek thing? 

Fuck, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He was pretty sure he was going to die tonight, but by God, what a way to go. 

“I’m only going to be able to ask you this once,” Derek informed him, hands squeezing at Stiles’ thighs from their position, since his elbows were still under Stiles’ knees. “As soon as we start, it’ll be hard for me to stop.”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’m sure or whatever, I’ll kick you in the groin,” Stiles said breathlessly. “If I don’t get fucked before I walk out of this apartment, you’re a dead man.” 

“In no universe would I ever let you walk out of this apartment, unless you’re limping.” Derek’s smirk was so smug that Stiles smacked at him as best he could from the awkward position. 

“Asshole.” 

“Yes it is,” Derek said, and rolled his hips forward so that his clothed cock pressed harder against Stiles’ ass. “Pay attention. Are you listening?” 

“Hardly, but go on.” 

“Do you want me to wear a condom?” 

That gave Stiles pause, mostly because he hadn’t been expecting it. “What?” 

“I’m a Werewolf. I know you’re well aware that I can’t get STDs, and I haven’t fucked anyone in over a year regardless.”

“I’m clean, if that’s what you’re asking,” Stiles said, confused. “I get myself tested.”

Derek’s smarminess faded ever so slightly so his smile was something a bit softer. “I know.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Stiles asked, rolling his eyes. This was an absolutely ridiculous conversation to be having with his legs in the air and Derek’s covered dick against his asshole. 

“Because you don’t seem like the kind of person who’d get in bed with someone, Werewolf or not, if you weren’t clean.” And the smarmy smirk was back. “That’s not why I asked about the condom.” 

Stiles stared at him, not understanding at first, but then Ethan’s words from the restaurant came back to him. He didn’t know if Ethan was being serious or not. 

Both Ethan and Scott were Alphas, so really it would’ve been Jackson or Allison he would’ve wanted to hear from when it came to how much their husbands came. 

Then again, he didn’t want to know anything about their sex lives, he already knew more than he cared to. 

While he didn’t know how true Ethan’s words were, he couldn’t help but analyse Derek’s body language. Stiles was good with the human body because of his work, and while he would never claim to be an expert on knowing what someone was thinking or feeling based on body language alone, he could tell that Derek was already leaning to one side, and one arm was looser than the other, like he was getting ready to reach for the condoms. 

Did Stiles want to shit cum out for a week? Hell no. 

But did he want the experience of a good, hard fuck with cum coating his insides? Absolutely. 

“You promised me ten orgasms, so you’re running a little behind.”

That seemed to startle Derek, and he eyed Stiles for a few seconds before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“If you don’t fuck comprehensive words right out of me, I’m going to tell everyone you’re a huge liar.” 

Derek’s smile somehow managed to look soft, despite the shift in his expression, the hunger returning. He bent down over Stiles, forcing him to spread his legs a touch too far for comfort, and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. 

“You’re going to regret those words,” Derek whispered against his lips. 

“Make me, then,” Stiles challenged. 

Derek was off him in a heartbeat, but only so he could yank his pants and shorts off. He grabbed for something on the nightstand, and Stiles noticed it was lube—beside an easily accessible box of condoms, that were knocked to the ground in Derek’s haste to get the lube—and then Derek was on top of him again. 

This kiss was somehow even harder than the last, Derek’s tongue in his mouth once more as he ground down against Stiles, his hard dick rubbing up against Stiles’ oversensitive one. He let out a grunt, but didn’t react otherwise. 

He’d never come ten times in one sitting before, and honestly didn’t think it was possible, but he was open to be proven wrong so long as his dick didn’t fall off! 

Stiles understood why Derek had said what he did about that being his one and only chance to request the condom, because the human side of Derek seemed to have checked out the second he was back on top of Stiles. While he didn’t shift entirely into his Beta form, his eyes were blood red and he had fangs in his mouth when he sucked his way down Stiles’ body again. 

As long as he didn’t bite, Stiles wasn’t going to be worried about it. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally turn into a Werewolf during sex, but he doubted this was Derek’s first time fucking a human so he didn’t let it concern him. 

Thankfully there weren’t any claws yet, because when Derek shoved two lubed fingers into Stiles, it was with blunt, human fingers. He seemed to be moving faster than he had been previously, probably because his own release was so much closer than it had been, and Stiles arched his back and pushed down on the fingers. When they pressed right against his prostate, he jerked back instinctively, but strong fingers against his hip kept him from moving away entirely. 

Derek made quick work of stretching him, and Stiles could tell based on how hard he was breathing and the jerky actions of his fingers that he was really losing control. It was actually kind of hot, he liked the idea that he was turning Derek on so much that he was losing his mind. 

Besides, fair was fair, Derek had made Stiles lose his mind twice already. 

Stiles was so startled when Derek yanked his fingers back out that he jumped, but he didn’t even have time to look down the length of his body before Derek was above him once more. He had one hand braced against the headboard above Stiles’ head, and the other down out of sight, presumably around his dick. 

Derek was nothing if not the master of the unexpected, because Stiles was fully anticipating having him ram his cock right into him in one, hard thrust. 

That wasn’t what happened. 

Instead, it was slow. Almost agonizingly so. The head of Derek’s dick seemed to take an eternity to enter him, and then inch by inch, he pushed in further and further, and further—fuck, Stiles didn’t remember his dick being that big!—until Stiles felt Derek’s pressed flushed against the back of his thighs. 

That was the only reprieve he got though, because as soon as he acknowledged Derek was fully in, the Werewolf pulled back out and thrust back in so hard that Stiles actually moved up on the mattress. 

Two thrusts later, and Derek’s hand had moved to yank the pillow up so that it saved Stiles’ head from cracking against the headboard. It was quite possibly the hardest fuck Stiles had ever experienced in his life, and he was almost partially sitting up, shoulders against the headboard, before his body stopped being forced up higher on the mattress. 

To say it was an experience would be an understatement. He’d always heard sex with a Werewolf was amazing, but no one had prepared him for how fucking mind-blowing it would be. Even Allison’s complaints about Scott’s stamina had not prepared him for the next hour of his life. 

He didn’t know how many times Derek came, but all he seemed to do was thrust hard and deep into Stiles, hold there for the duration of his orgasm while clutching Stiles so tightly against him it was like he wanted to merge them together, and then as soon as the tremors left him, he was right back at it, pounding away. 

Stiles didn’t think he came ten times, but it was definitely more than five! Every time Derek pushed into him, it was like his dick was magnetized right to Stiles’ prostate. He never once failed to slam into it, and especially when he was having an orgasm, his dick pulsing against Stiles’ prostate, it sent Stiles over the edge more often than not. 

He was pretty sure he passed out at one point, because when he came to Derek had stopped moving and was saying his name, sounding almost distressed. Stiles just wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and rocked up into him in silent confirmation that he was okay, and Derek only hesitated for a few seconds before going back at it. 

Stiles knew Derek had finally reached the end of his stamina when he thrust into him a bit less aggressively than the other times, dick still magically finding Stiles’ prostate, and pulsing in another orgasm. He had both arms wrapped around Stiles’ back, partially keeping him in place in an attempt to stop him from moving up further on the bed, and face buried in his neck. 

When the pulsing finally stopped, and the tremors ceased, Derek’s entire body seemed to melt and he half-crushed Stiles beneath him. 

Honestly? Best way to die ever. 

Ever. 

It took Stiles a good two minutes to both catch his breath and find his voice. And even then, all he managed was, “Holy shit.” 

Derek let out a low, deep laugh against his collarbone, shifting slightly. Stiles let out a small sound of distress, since that had pushed his dick a bit further into his prostate, and Derek finally took pity on him and shifted his hips backwards. He didn’t pull out entirely, but he at least pulled out enough that he wasn’t abusing Stiles’ sensitive areas anymore. 

God, the overstimulation had been the weirdest sensation of pain and pleasure by the fourth orgasm. Stiles didn’t realize he was a masochist, but maybe that was just the way sex with a Werewolf was. Maybe only people who could handle being fucked out of existence were worthy of sleeping with a Werewolf.

Thank God he’d made the cut. 

They said nothing more as they lay there, Stiles still trying to relearn how to breathe, and Derek seeming completely and utterly sated.

Stiles sure hoped so, considering how hard he’d been going the whole time. He was kind of impressed Derek wasn’t breathing harder than this, wasn’t he exhausted?! 

It felt like it took him almost ten minutes to get his breathing back under control, and Derek just lay on top of him the whole time, not a care in the world. Stiles’ heart did something weird in his chest when he realized he could feel Derek smiling against his skin. He was still holding onto him so tightly, but in the most protective, loving embrace he’d ever experienced. 

He couldn’t deny the sex had been absolutely mind-blowing, but everything leading up to it, and this easy, relaxed wind down after made him feel like this was probably the most loving, honest relationship he’d ever been in. 

God, Derek was absolutely perfect, he couldn’t believe he’d won him over by bitching about the order he watched Star Wars in. 

Though he also didn’t really know how mates worked. Would this have happened no matter what? Had Stiles just sped up the process with the whiteboard? Or were soulmates real and Werewolves just happened to have a fine tuning for it because they also had mates?

Who knew, all Stiles cared about was that Derek had picked him, because Derek himself was absolutely perfect in every way.

When Stiles’ arms felt like they weren’t made of Jell-o anymore, he managed to shift them so he could wrap one around Derek’s shoulders, and let the other rub up and down Derek’s back. They’d been lying there so long that most of the sweat along his spine had dried. 

Derek let out a content hum, repositioning his head slightly, and Stiles felt his ear pressed against the middle of his chest. He figured he was listening to his heartbeat, even though he didn’t need to press his ear against his skin to hear it clearly. 

A small laugh escaped him before he said, “You’ll be happy to know you’re not dead.” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked. 

“Pretty sure, but I can be more sure if you want.” 

Stiles couldn’t help but clench his asshole when Derek shifted inside him again, his dick just barely brushing against his prostate. Apparently the few minutes, hours, days they’d been lying there had at least removed some of the pain aspect since the light brush shot a jolt of pleasure up his spine. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles moaned, but he still tried to roll his hips backwards and away, because the last thing he wanted was—

“I can go again,” Derek said. 

“Oh God no!” Stiles blurted out, panic shooting through him. It wasn’t that the sex hadn’t been amazing, but he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle another fuck that long and hard so soon. He’d just opened his mouth to explain that when he felt Derek’s shoulders shaking and heard his quiet laughter. 

“I’m kidding.” 

Stiles relaxed instantly. “Really?” 

“No, but I’ll show you mercy this once.” Wait, what?! “Need to work you up to multiple rounds.” 

“Oh God, that wasn’t multiple rounds?!” Stiles asked, almost horrified. Derek was still laughing against his skin. “Wait, I’m serious, you’re joking, right?! That was absolutely multiple rounds!” 

“That was just one.”

“But you came like, twelve times!” Stiles insisted. 

“It was seven, and I know. But that’s how Werewolf physiology works. Round’s not over until my dick goes soft.” He rolled his hips, as if to emphasize his point. Stiles could tell he wasn’t fully hard anymore, but he was definitely sporting a half-chub, and that was almost concerning. 

No fucking wonder Allison always made those jokes about not minding if Scott was having an affair with Stiles! 

“You’re not serious,” Stiles said, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt. 

Derek, the absolute jerk he was, just laughed again. “Don’t worry, Stiles. One round is more than enough for me. If you ever want to try for a second, you can find comfort in knowing it doesn’t last as long.” 

“Oh, so thirty minutes instead of an hour?” Stiles asked sarcastically. 

“Round one is closer to an hour twenty,” Derek corrected, which at least explained why Stiles had literally passed out halfway through. “Round two is about an hour.” 

“How am I still alive right now?” 

Derek laughed once again, then started to shift. Stiles grabbed for him, worried he was about to start the second round—Stiles was admittedly curious how that would be, but not today after his first ever time with a Werewolf—but thankfully Derek just pulled out of him. 

The amount of cum he felt leaving him made him wonder if his stomach was distended with it. Was that a real thing? Or was that just things people wrote in books? God, if he had so much cum in him that his body was affected, he’d probably pass out again. 

Derek freed his arms from around Stiles’ body and leaned down to kiss him lightly before pulling him back down gently so he was lying properly on the mattress and disappearing from sight. 

As Stiles laid there, still feeling cum oozing out of him, it made him think about the condoms. Considering how their incredible fuck had gone, he realized how different it would’ve been if he’d asked Derek to wear a condom. Obviously he’d come so much that one wouldn’t have been enough, so Stiles could only assume that whenever a Werewolf had to wear a condom, once they had their first orgasm, they had to stop, pull out, change the condom, and resume. 

It would ruin the flow of the fucking, in his opinion. Not only that, but every time the condom was changed, it would mean Derek would’ve had to come back to himself enough to do it, which probably would’ve ruined a bit of the experience for him. Being able to fuck into Stiles, have an orgasm, and then keep going was probably the same as Stiles fucking into his hand uninterrupted. It legitimately felt like an interruption in pleasure. 

In addition, it gave a less eager partner the opportunity to insist they were done. Or a less gracious one? Stiles didn’t know, but it felt like a shitty thing to do if he considered that a Werewolf’s regular fuck was multiple orgasms. For Stiles, he could have one and be done with it, round over, he was happy and sated. It seemed like, with Werewolves, that whole first round up until their dicks went soft was the equivalent of one good orgasm for a human. If someone stopped them halfway through, that was basically blue balling a Werewolf. 

That seemed like a mean thing to do. Stiles was actually kind of glad he’d said no to the condom, but he could also appreciate why Ethan had warned him about it, and why Derek had asked. 

Ethan knew how intense it could be and was looking out for Stiles, and Derek was trying to make sure he had an out if Stiles needed him to stop. Hell, he had stopped when Stiles had passed out. Stiles couldn’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, for Derek to pull the animal back long enough to make sure his partner was okay. 

Which he was. Best bout of unconsciousness ever. He could actually tell people Derek fucked him unconscious. That was kind of hilarious. 

And hot.

Mostly hot. 

Fuck, he could not handle another round right now, but his brain and body were operating on two different wavelengths. His body was begging for mercy, but his brain was so full of dopamine that it wanted another hit stat. 

Stiles almost hit the ceiling when he felt something wet on his stomach. He’d closed his eyes at some point while Derek was gone, and hadn’t heard him come back—Werewolf, so it made sense. 

“Sorry,” Derek said quietly. 

“Jerk,” Stiles muttered, throwing one arm over his eyes. 

Derek worked in silence, wiping down his stomach and thighs. He left for about a minute, then came back and carefully worked at cleaning around Stiles’ dick.

It was comfortable, and Stiles felt very cared for, but he let his arm slide up off his eyes when Derek spoke next. 

“Are you okay?” 

He looked down the length of his body, Derek sitting on the edge of the bed to work, and saw that he was scowling. His jaw was tight, and his frame was tense. The fuck? 

“I am amazing,” Stiles informed him, confused about what the fuck had just happened to put that look on Derek’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve never...” Derek made a face. “You’re my first human. I was trying not to lose control, but I guess I didn’t manage it.” 

Stiles didn’t understand why Derek had been perfectly fine right afterwards, when they’d been lying tangled together, and was suddenly looking like he’d fucked everything up. 

Then a thought occurred to him and he struggled up onto his elbows, looking down the length of his body. 

Most of his chest was covered in hickeys, and he had dark spots forming on his sides and hips from where Derek had been gripping him. Stiles knew those would hurt later if he pressed on them, but it wasn’t a big deal. 

It was for Derek, but only because humans didn’t heal like Werewolves did, so he probably thought he’d hurt him. 

“Hey.” Stiles said, forcing Derek to look up at him. “Hickeys don’t hurt,” he insisted, jerking his chin down towards his chest. “And the bruises further down will fade. You didn’t hurt me, so don’t let the night end with you being all emo thinking I’m lying here cowering in fear.” He shifted a bit more so he was sitting up fully, just barely avoiding making a face at the cum that free-flowed out of him at the action. He didn’t want to make Derek think the look had been one of pain when it wasn’t. “Trust me, if I thought I could handle another hour of fucking, I would absolutely tell you to go for round two to prove how phenomenal I am, but I think you’re right that I need to work up to that, so maybe next time.” 

Talk of a next time seemed to have Derek’s shoulders relax ever so slightly, and Stiles smiled before reaching out to shove his shoulder. 

“Trust me, that was the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had, and when my dick grows back, I am more than willing to have sex with you again.” 

Derek snorted at that, which Stiles was relieved about, and shoved his shoulder once again. It took a second, but eventually Derek nodded once. Stiles didn’t know if it was in thanks, acknowledgement or understanding, but he chose to interpret it as all three. 

Just when Stiles was about to say he felt like a shower was in order—seriously, the cum free-flowing from his asshole was making him wonder about Ethan’s comment—a thought occurred to him and his face fell. 

That had Derek’s entire attitude change instantly and he grabbed at Stiles’ face with his free hand. “What? Stiles, what is it?” 

Stiles didn’t answer. He just immediately whipped around to look towards Derek’s window, absolutely horrified that—the curtains were closed. 

He blinked. Blinked again. 

The curtains were still closed.

Derek never closed his curtains. His bedroom was always on full display for everyone to see, and Stiles knew Derek hadn’t closed them when they’d first entered the room. He doubted he’d gotten up to close them during Stiles’ brief bout of unconsciousness, and he hadn’t closed them just now either. 

“Stiles, what?” Derek demanded, concerned. 

“Your curtains are closed.” 

“What?” Now Derek sounded confused. 

“Your curtains,” Stiles said lamely, pointing at them and looking back at Derek, the Werewolf’s hand still on his face. “They’re closed.” 

“I know,” Derek said slowly, evidently still confused. 

“But your curtains are never closed.” 

Derek stared at him for a second, then let out an aggrieved sigh, having dropped the washcloth he was using to clean Stiles up with so he could use his other hand to rub at his eyes. “Stiles, did you seriously just have a mini heart attack because you thought the curtains were open?” 

“We were fucking for years!” Stiles insisted, motioning back towards the window with one hand. “I thought we’d given everyone a show! You never close your curtains! When did you even close them?!” 

“Before I left,” Derek said, dropping his hand from his face and giving Stiles a look. “I wasn’t positive the night would end like this, but I know myself enough that I knew I wouldn’t have enough brain capacity to remember to close them if we came back here.” His face went dark then, some of the wolf peeking through. “Wolves are territorial. No one is allowed to see what belongs to me.” 

Stiles blinked at him, then looked over his shoulder at the curtains, then back at him. “You closed the curtains because you didn’t want anyone to see you fucking me?” 

“I didn’t want anyone to see you naked.” 

“Scott and Jackson have seen me naked.” 

Derek gave him a look for that, clearly saying he was not helping. “I am aware. But they’ve never seen you naked like this.” 

Stiles made a noise and jerked away when Derek’s free hand grabbed his dick. 

“No, no!” Stiles insisted, a smirk forming on Derek’s lips. “No, I said next time!”

“You said round two next time. You only had nine orgasms.” 

“Nine is a perfectly good number!” Stiles insisted, grabbing for Derek’s wrist with one hand and shoving at his chest with the other. 

Derek laughed and, mercifully, released him. Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest, and he couldn’t figure out if it was in anticipation of another orgasm, or genuine fear that he’d almost gotten beaten off again. He was pretty sure his heart could not handle another orgasm. He was also pretty sure his last two at least had been dry orgasms, and that was a weird experience he didn’t need to repeat right now. 

“We’ll aim for ten next time then, too.” Derek said, leaning forward to kiss him. This one was lighter, softer. Less desperate, and more just savouring the moment. 

“Not to kill the mood or anything,” Stiles said against Derek’s lips, “but I need to use the bathroom so I can try and shit out all the cum in my ass.” 

Derek chuckled and kissed him again before pulling back. “We’ll use a condom next time.” 

“Fuck no,” Stiles argued, taking Derek’s offered hand and wincing when he felt even more cum leaking out of him, trailing down his thighs. “Why ruin the fun by making you have to stop every time you orgasm?” 

The smile that earned him was soft, and Derek kissed his temple before helping him to the bathroom, Stiles a bit unsteady on his feet. 

They ended up in the shower before long, Derek pressing him into the wall and kissing him as he helped wash the sweat and cum off him. Thankfully Stiles’ stomach was not distended, so absolutely a book thing, but Derek ended up having to shove two fingers into him again to try and get most of the cum out. 

Even then, Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten it all, but whatever. Like Derek had said, Werewolves didn’t get STDs, and Stiles would probably literally shit his cum out eventually. 

Derek left the shower first, Stiles finishing up slowly, and leaning heavily against the wall without the Werewolf there to support him. He’d thought Derek was joking about the limp, but as he turned off the shower and grabbed the towel Derek had left out for him, he realized he was going to have trouble walking and sitting for days. 

Once he was dry and out of the shower, he kept the towel wrapped around his waist and used the door jamb to stay balanced as he walked back into the room. 

Derek was nowhere to be found, and Stiles went for his boxers. He’d only just started to bend down to grab them when Derek appeared beside him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Whatever you want,” Stiles admitted. 

“Looks like you were going to leave. Or at least put clothes on.” 

“I know Werewolves like their space.” Stiles shrugged. “I was going to let you decide what you wanted me to do, since I literally live right there.” He motioned towards the curtained window. 

“I changed the bedding,” Derek said in response, one hand tugging at the towel around Stiles’ waist until he let it go. Derek pulled it off entirely and threw it across the room without watching where it went. 

“You sure?” Stiles asked. “I don’t want to impose.” 

“Stiles,” Derek said, reaching up to cradle his face in one hand again and looking at him so intently that Stiles felt like he’d stopped breathing. “I never want you out of my space again. I will keep you here as long as you’ll allow it.” 

“Careful what you wish for,” Stiles breathed in response, but Derek just smiled and kissed him again.

His hand left his face to trail down his neck and along his arm until he closed his hand around Stiles’ and tugged once. Stiles allowed himself to be led back to the bed, and Derek pulled the covers down. He’d remade it in its entirety, as if they weren’t about to get back into it. Stiles found that kind of cute and climbed into bed. Derek crawled in after him, pulling the covers back up over them, and grabbing for Stiles so he could pull him close, spooning him from behind. 

He didn’t miss that Derek was hard again, his dick pressing into Stiles’ ass crack, but he didn’t try anything. He seemed perfectly content to just hold him. 

“When we wake up,” Stiles said. 

“What?” Derek asked, clearly not following. 

“You can fuck me into the mattress again when we wake up.” 

Derek was silent for a long while before saying, “Hurry up and fall asleep.” 

Stiles laughed, but he obediently settled and closed his eyes, more than ready to pass out after the good, hard fuck he’d just had. 

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but Stiles woke up first. It was hard extricating himself from Derek so he could go take a leak, and when he returned to bed, he shifted around so he was being spooned by Derek again, closing his eyes and dozing off and on while he waited for Derek to wake up. 

True to his word, as soon as he could tell Derek was returning to consciousness, he pushed back into him so Derek’s dick was sliding along his crack, and that had the Werewolf awake in seconds. 

Stiles spent the first hour and a half of his morning with his face buried in Derek’s pillows, and Derek’s dick buried in his ass. 

Best.

Date.

Ever. 

Stiles’ jaw cracked as he yawned wide enough to rival a snake, rubbing furiously at both eyes as he walked out of his bedroom. His pyjama pants were riding low on his hips, and it was starting to get a touch too cold for him to wander around without a shirt on, but he didn’t dwell on it right then. 

He was in dire need of coffee. He had a piece to finish for tomorrow, and he’d procrastinated it enough that he’d legitimately set an alarm today. The line art was finished and ready to be coloured, but it was hard to feel motivated when it was so boring.

Same shit as usual. Girl being forced against a hard surface by a big, burly man. Zero imagination, seriously. 

Stiles stood in front of his coffee machine, watching the liquid gold flow into his cup, the loud whirring of the machine the only sound in his apartment. Once it was done brewing, he exited the kitchen and went to turn on his TV so he had background noise, then sipped at his drink while wandering towards his study. 

Putting his mug down, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his pyjama pants and tossed it onto his desk. Usually he’d just fall into his chair, but he’d made that mistake yesterday and regretted it, so he took a careful seat this time, pleased when he didn’t feel any pain. 

Booting his computer up, he opened his art program, grabbed his Wacom pen, and stared at the image, uninspired. 

At least the line art was done, that was the hardest part, but even colouring this would be more entertaining if it weren’t such a boring drawing. 

Leaning back in his seat, he turned his head to the side to look at the apartment across the way. 

The bedroom curtains were closed, but the rest of them were open, the apartment dark and empty. 

He already knew that, since Derek was at work, but a part of him had kind of hoped he’d call in. It was probably better that he hadn’t, not only because Derek had called in more than a few times in the past two weeks, but also because Stiles had work to do.

Which he absolutely had to get done before Derek got home. 

There was a reason Stiles had slept at his own place last night, and Derek at his. If they slept together, there wasn’t usually a lot of sleeping involved, and also contributed to Derek’s dwindling vacation days. 

It wasn’t Stiles’ fault he woke up horny! Every time he woke up with Derek pressed against him, his dick hard, Stiles couldn’t help rubbing against him, which inevitably woke Derek up, which in turn led to the best sex Stiles had ever had in his life. 

Every time was the best time, in his opinion, though the last time had been the absolute best time. While the sex itself had been out of this world and legitimately made him lose the ability to speak real human words, it was more the look on Derek’s face when Stiles had consented to a second round that did it for him. 

Derek didn’t talk about his previous relationships very much—or at all—but the way he acted sometimes made it clear that most people treated him like he was too much. 

He was too quiet, or too grumpy, or too rough in bed, or too needy, or too whatever. 

Stiles didn’t think that at all. If Stiles was Goldilocks, Derek was mama bear. Just right. Exactly what he wanted, and needed. 

He forced himself to turn away from the other apartment, because he was getting hard, and the last thing he wanted to do was masturbate when he knew Derek was coming over tonight after he was done watching his shows with Kira. 

It was weird to realize how little their routine had changed, but Stiles quite liked it. They were officially dating, and they ate dinner together and slept over at each other’s places all the time, but for the most part, nothing else had changed. 

Scott and Jackson still showed up unexpectedly—with lots of whining and dramatics over how much his apartment smelled like sex—and his dad dropped in whenever he had spare time to visit. 

Stiles still tried—and mostly failed—to keep a normal schedule, and was working hard at staying on top of his job, working on the comic on the side—which he’d finally admitted to Derek he was doing. 

Derek still spent Tuesdays and Thursdays watching shows with Kira, and worked out way more than anyone had any reason to. 

The only slight differences were that Derek invited Stiles over now whenever Erica, Boyd and Kira were by for dinner, and Stiles did the same when Jackson and Scott came around. It gave them all the opportunity to get to know each other, and Stiles was sure that eventually they’d have one big meet and greet, including Ethan and Allison. 

He was also pretty glad that the date night had somehow mended some fences between Jackson and Allison. They definitely weren’t friends, and he knew Jackson wouldn’t spend any time with her if he didn’t have to, but the last time Stiles had gone over for dinner at their place, Ethan had invited Scott and Allison and Jackson hadn’t batted an eye at having her walk into his home.

Progress. It was all progress. 

Sighing in defeat over having no time to procrastinate, despite wanting to, Stiles opened the colour palette and got to work on finishing up the piece. He needed money, after all, because money got him coffee. 

He was at the shading part of the piece, having taken a break only to make food, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked across the way. He perked up instantly when he saw Derek was home, even though he knew he had plans with Kira and wouldn’t be coming by until closer to ten or eleven that night. 

Derek didn’t even put his satchel down, he just stormed through his apartment to his whiteboard, grabbed a marker, and stuck the cap between his teeth so he could get it off. Then he turned and wrote on the board. 

‘STILES!’ 

Oh, so he’d finally seen it. 

Stiles grinned as he got to his feet and slowly moseyed his way to his own whiteboard. He could tell Derek was tracking his every move with his eyes, but didn’t speed up in the slightest. He knew he was risking a lot, since Derek had a key to his place and could just come over, but he trusted him to stay put since Kira was likely on her way. 

Moving around the entertainment centre, he grabbed a marker, uncapped it, and replied. 

‘Yes?’ 

That earned him a look he felt even from across the way, and he just grinned impishly, completely unrepentant. 

Derek didn’t even bother erasing his accusatory written yelling of his name and wrote underneath it. 

‘put some clothes on
and you can’t fucking post that!’ 

Stiles slapped a hand to his still bare chest, which was forever littered with hickeys since Derek seemed to love marking him, and affected a surprised look. 

Even from this distance, he knew exactly what Derek looked like, and he knew Derek knew it too because the Werewolf tapped insistently at the message on the board. 

‘You’re the one who told me to draw the comic’

Derek finally dropped his satchel to the ground, but only so he could use that hand to rub the words off the board, not even trying to grab for the eraser he had. He wrote another message, movements jerky and agitated. 

‘I CLOSE THE CURTAINS FOR A REASON STILES!’

‘Yes, and I am VERY appreciative of that’ 

A part of him felt bad, because he was trying to get a rise out of Derek to make him come over early, but that wasn’t fair to Kira. It was their long-standing tradition, and Stiles would never stand between them and their traditions.

But oh, was it tempting. 

‘you are NOT posting that!’ 

Sighing and showing him pity, Stiles turned and put the poor guy out of his misery. 

‘I’m fading to black on the posted comic. I only drew that for us.’ 

When he looked back at Derek, he saw him relax instantly, and couldn’t help but laugh. God, Werewolves were so territorial. 

‘Promise?’ 

Stiles rolled his eyes, erasing what he’d written to reply. 

‘Yes Derek. I promise. I’m not risking you withholding sex on me’

Derek’s response went straight for his dick.

‘If you think posting that will make me withhold it, you’re thinking in the wrong direction’ 

Stiles grinned at him and turned back to the board. 

‘What, you would tie me down?’ 

Derek turned back to his board, wrote one word, and underlined it three times. 

‘FOREVER!’

Stiles laughed at that, but before he could reply, he caught sight of waving from the unit beside Derek’s and looked over to see Mason trying to get his attention. The guy made big flailing motions when he saw Stiles looking, very akin to something Stiles himself would do. He interpreted it as him going, “Really?!” 

Which, fair. They were kind of having an inappropriate conversation via whiteboard. 

Stiles held up his hands in defeat and erased what he’d last written, replacing it with something tamer before recapping his marker and putting it down. 

‘Enjoy the shows with Kira. See you later.’ 

Derek erased what he’d written as well, presumably because he could hear Mason, and he just drew a checkmark in response. Recapping his own marker, he picked up his satchel and headed for his room. 

Stiles went back to the study to get back to work, but he couldn’t help laughing a bit at Derek’s reaction. 

He had a shared drive with Derek specifically for the comic, mostly to get his opinion on things and so that he could make sure he didn’t give any details that maybe were better suited being left out of a supposed fictional story, especially since Boyd had made Stiles a website for his portfolio and carved out a part of it for his comic when he eventually started posting it. 

Stiles had spent almost three days—procrastinating his work, obviously—drawing as much hot, raunchy sex as he could. The fact that the two characters were drawn to look exactly like him and Derek made the whole thing way hotter than it had any right to be, and Stiles may have spent an obscenely long time on one panel worshipping Derek’s dick. 

Another entire page consisted of Derek’s dick slowly disappearing into Stiles’ asshole. 

The thought of Derek having been looking at the art during his lunch break or something had Stiles howling with laughter, because he could imagine him popping a stiffy in the middle of the lunchroom over art. 

Then again, it wasn’t just art, since it had actually happened. 

But, Stiles was being honest about the whole thing. He’d drawn it because he wanted to, and because it was hot, but he didn’t intend for anyone to see it. Just him and Derek. And honestly, it had been kind of interesting to draw, since the positions were similar but different from his usual art. 

He’d definitely taken those reference shots in his bedroom, and would admit to having paused some porn for certain positions. 

And maybe watched some of it, he could admit it. 

He’d just finished shading the woman in the shot when a voice spoke and he just about drew a line right across the whole image. 

“Back to your porn, I see.” 

Oh, he had no idea! 

“Christ,” Stiles insisted, turning to slap at Jackson. “Why do you always feel the need to do that to me?” 

“Just checking on your survival instincts.” 

“They suck,” Stiles informed him. 

“I’m aware.” 

He flipped his friend off and turned back to make sure he hadn’t fucked up his drawing. He hit the ‘undo’ button just in case, but all it did was remove some of his shading so he hit ‘redo’ to put it back where it belonged. 

“Put a shirt on, no one needs to see that shit.” 

“Stop looking then,” was Stiles’ retort, because much as Derek didn’t like Stiles showing himself off to others, he knew his boyfriend loved seeing all the hickeys on his skin. 

Jackson just snorted, then said, “Surprised you’re not permanently glued to Derek’s dick right now.” 

Stiles just motioned his window without looking in response, and Jackson grunted in acknowledgement, obviously seeing Kira. Stiles didn’t know what time it was, but if he’d finished shading, he knew for sure Kira had arrived. 

“You guys still in the honeymoon phase? Your place doesn’t smell as repulsive as usual.” 

“Yes, we’ve just been fucking at his place more than mine, but he’s coming over tonight.” 

“Thanks for the warning,” Jackson said dryly. 

Stiles just turned to beam at him and his friend scoffed before crossing his arms and looking across the way again. 

They were silent for a while, Stiles continuing his shading, having moved on to the man now. He knew Jackson would eventually get bored and leave, but Stiles paused in what he was doing when his friend spoke ten minutes later. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Stiles turned to look at him, but Jackson was resolutely looking out the window, across the way at Derek. 

He smiled slightly, both at the words, and at the fact that Jackson couldn’t admit something this sappy without feeling all weird about it. “Thanks. Me too.” 

“You still belong to me, though.” 

“I belong to me,” Stiles corrected. “But you and Scott are my blood, forever. Don’t ever think otherwise.” 

Jackson said nothing, but nodded once stiffly. 

“You’re not moving out, are you?” 

“We only just started dating two weeks ago,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes. “We’re nowhere near the move-in-together phase.” 

“Werewolf,” Jackson reminded him, turning to give Stiles a cool look. “You’re his mate. Don’t deny it’s come up.” 

Letting out a deep sigh, Stiles turned his chair completely and fidgeted with his tablet pen before admitting the truth to him. 

That, yes, moving in together had come up, but Derek had been very careful about it. 

He’d spoken to him about it three days ago over dinner, and Stiles had known something was up as soon as he’d sat down, because Derek did his usual arms crossed, scowl on his face, full defences up thing he always did when he was worried about something. 

Stiles kind of knew how the whole mates thing worked because of Allison, since Ethan was a Werewolf and thus viewed it differently, but he supposed he hadn’t realized how all-encompassing it was for the Werewolf side until their conversation. The animal side of Derek was behaving a bit differently than a normal human boyfriend would. 

He’d told Stiles he wanted them to move in together, because that was what his wolf wanted, but he recognized and acknowledged that Stiles was human and that was too fast for him considering they’d just started dating. 

Which was true, because while Stiles absolutely loved the way their relationship was developing, he also really liked his apartment, and he wasn’t ready to leave it, nor was he ready for someone else to move into his space. 

The current compromise was assisted by how close they lived, because Stiles was fine with going over to Derek’s place every night, or vice versa, but he wanted to keep his own apartment so he had a place to go back to with some breathing room, especially since being around Derek right now made him want to have sex with him all the time. 

“Yeah, that’s the pheromones.” 

Stiles stared at Jackson. “The what?” 

Jackson looked unimpressed. “You know what pheromones are, Stiles. Derek’s a Werewolf, his body is releasing pheromones around you by the truckload because you’re his mate. It makes you want to climb him like a tree all the time because he wants to climb you like a tree. It’ll fade eventually. Mostly.” 

That had Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Mostly?! What do you mean mostly?!” 

Jackson shrugged, crossing his arms. “Ethan and I are pretty good about it now. Like, yeah we fuck—”

“Gross,” Stiles cut in, but Jackson bulled on. 

“—but we’re not desperate for it most of the time. If one of us is in the mood, it gets the other in the mood because we’re mates, but we have some control since the initial Werewolf honeymoon stage. Allison and Scott are different, because she’s human. You always react when the Werewolf releases pheromones, so you’re kind of always in a constant cycle of want and need.” He looked unimpressed now. “Why do you think Allison goes on those girls’ trips so often? It’s so she can get a break from always wanting to climb all over Scott.” 

“Not a visual I needed,” Stiles informed him. 

“Besides,” Jackson continued, like Stiles hadn’t spoken, “it’s an Alpha thing. Ethan can release a lot of pheromones around me too, but because I’m a Werewolf and can kind of reciprocate, the exchange of pheromones can usually keep us pretty grounded. You and Allison can’t do that, so I hope the sex is good.” 

“The sex is amazing,” Stiles informed him. “It’s the cleanup that gets a bit tedious.” 

That earned him a frown. “I thought Ethan warned you about condoms.” 

“He did.” Stiles shrugged. “I figured it would ruin the moment when I saw how Derek was that first time. I didn’t want to break the flow, so we’ve never bothered. It’s not like it’s a hardship, it just sucks that we always have to go and clean up afterwards instead of snuggling. But we snuggle after so.” He shrugged again. 

His friend was making faces at him, clearly not needing all the details, but Stiles didn’t worry about it. He’d been stuck listening to Jackson and Scott for years, now it was his turn to scar them!

“You need any shots or anything before I head out?” Jackson asked, clearly trying to change the topic. 

Stiles slapped a hand to his chest and let out the biggest gasp he could manage. “Oh my God, you’re offering?! You do like being my model!” 

Jackson flipped him off, but still didn’t leave. Stiles dropped his hand and smiled. 

“Thanks, but if I need any more sexy shots, I’ll use Derek. But, because you’ve been my best model forever and I wouldn’t want you to miss out, I promise I’ll use you if I ever need any action shots.” 

“As long as your boyfriend knows I’m not hurting you. I don’t need him killing me now that you’re his mate.” 

“Promise,” Stiles said, slapping Jackson in the arm. 

He raised one hand in farewell before turning to leave and Stiles faced his computer once more. He rolled his eyes when he heard his fridge open and close, his friend obviously stealing a Coke before heading out, but didn’t worry about it. Wasn’t like it was anything new. 

Waiting for the lock to click, Stiles focussed back on his art, wanting to get it finished before Derek and Kira were done. He didn’t know how long he worked on it, but they were still in the middle of one of their shows by the time he was done, so he cleaned it up and sent it off, pleased with himself for getting it in before the deadline. 

Since he still had some time to spare, he opened up the folder with the comic and pulled up the last page he was working on—the one in order as opposed to the random out of order pages he kept doing. It was one of the large shots showing the character who was meant to be him—whom he’d named Mike, in honour of his real name Mieczyslaw—looking out across the way towards the character meant to be Derek—whom he’d named Joel, because that was the name Derek chose. 

It made him laugh since he used to call Derek Jake, but Derek hadn’t wanted him to use Jake since that was the name Stiles had chosen for him. He seemed to think it was special, so Stiles just respected his wishes and named him Joel. 

He was staring at the image for a long while, thinking about Jackson’s question, and his conversation with Derek the other day about moving in. 

A part of him wondered if maybe the solution was for them to not move in together. Maybe the best way to do this for both of them was for them to keep both apartments, but just live together. Especially since Jackson had said that thing about Werewolf pheromones, it wasn’t a bad idea to have a backup place for Stiles to go if he needed a break from the sex—a crazy thing to think, but apparently it would happen eventually. 

If they kept both apartments, then Stiles could live with Derek—he seemed to want that more than living in Stiles’ place, so it could still work. Stiles would just keep this place, and maybe this could be his office space. He could move all his stuff to Derek’s except the bare necessities and his work station.

Not now, but later. And in a way, this worked out well, because if they did that, it meant whenever Derek’s sisters visited, they could stay in Stiles’ place given Derek didn’t have a spare room. Cora had been staying at Erica and Boyd’s the last time she’d visited, so having a place in the same building as their brother would be ideal. It would work out perfectly since they’d be close, but not underfoot. 

Stiles gave himself a bit of a shake when he realized he was thinking about this way too much given their relationship was still relatively new, but then again, Derek had already brought it up, so it wasn’t crazy of him to be considering their future together. 

That thought made him smile. Their future together. He still couldn’t believe him bullying Derek about Star Wars had landed him the kindest, sweetest, most amazing boyfriend ever. 

Stiles almost punched himself in the face when an arm wrapped around him from behind, but the other hand had reached out to catch his wrist before he could do himself any damage. 

“What are you smiling like an idiot about?” Derek asked in his ear, kissing his temple and slowly releasing Stiles’ wrist so he could wrap both arms properly around his shoulders from behind. 

Stiles appreciated that he, not only saved him from punching himself in the face, but also didn’t make fun of him for having that be his automatic reaction. 

“The idiot I’m in love with,” was his cheeky reply. 

“He’s not an idiot.” Derek kissed his temple again. “He’s a genius, because he bagged you.”

“Only because of his bad taste in how to watch Star Wars.”

“How do you know he didn’t plan that all along? How do you know he didn’t purposefully make you incensed enough to buy a whiteboard and communicate with him? Maybe that was what he wanted.” 

“Pretty elaborate plan, he could’ve just said ‘hi’ like a normal person.” 

Derek laughed against his temple, still holding him, then pressed his cheek to the top of Stiles’ head. 

“Busy?” 

“Finished my work, so was going to draw a bit of the comic, but I can work on that tomorrow if you have other things in mind.” 

“I’m sure I can think of something for us to do.” 

Stiles felt those words go straight to his dick. Was that the pheromones? Totally the pheromones. He didn’t care though, he had no complaints about all the sex he’d been having. 

“Good thing I’m only wearing one layer of clothing then,” Stiles said with a grin. Derek bit at the shell of his ear and slowly straightened, hands sliding along Stiles’ skin as he went. 

“In the bedroom.” 

“Yes, yes.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “No one but you.” 

When Stiles stood, he didn’t even have time to turn, because Derek did it for him, grabbing his hips to twist him around, then turning him so he was walking backwards out of the study while he kissed him hard. 

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, obediently following his lead, and trusting Derek not to let him walk into anything. When they made it to the bedroom, Derek kicked the door shut, the room falling into darkness since the lights were off. Even if the curtains had been drawn, which they weren’t, it was already dark out by this hour, so Stiles could hardly see anything, but he knew Derek saw everything just fine. 

He let out a small shout when he was pushed backwards, landing on the bed, and grinned before shuffling his way up towards the headboard. He could only see the vague outline of Derek’s silhouette, and the bright red eyes piercing the darkness as the other man slowly crawled up onto the bed over him. 

It was when Derek lowered his body on top of Stiles’ to kiss him again, the comic beginning to leave Stiles’ mind, that a thought occurred to him and he broke the kiss. 

“Derek?” 

“Hm?” the other man asked, trailing kisses down the side of his neck and biting hard to leave another hickey. 

Stiles tried extremely hard not to laugh at the thought that had just come to him, but he knew he didn’t succeed when he heard it in his voice. “We’ve been dating for two weeks.” 

“We have,” his boyfriend confirmed. 

“I just realized something.” 

“Oh? What’s that?” 

Stiles actually laughed now, because it was so fucking stupid. “I don’t know your phone number.” 

END.