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Derek is almost in awe of the control he has now, of the way he can manipulate his shift in small pieces with a sort of ease that he’s never had before.
He can shift fully, completely, at the drop of a hat, can be red eyed and snarling one second and fully composed and outwardly human the next outwardly because that is as close to human as he’ll ever be.
Stiles and Lydia have made him better, have made him stronger and smarter and more than he ever was or ever would be alone. They have given him more control than he has ever had. They are a two pronged tether that holds him together and allows him to be what he is supposed to be, a perfect balance of man and wolf.
One of the only things that test his control, that can make his fangs drop or his eyes flash without his consent is a threat towards his Pack.
Even the thought of someone or something trying to harm the two he considers his own is enough to make him crazy. The wolf sees them as his, loves them, wants them safe and whole and cared for. It is willing to rip and tear and eat anything that threatens them. In those moments the wolf cannot be kept down because it is too focused on protecting the Pack.
Derek is not strong enough, has no desire to be strong enough, to push those urges down.
Even then it’s different than the times he’d almost lose control before, different than the way he always felt back when anger was his only anchor. Now it’s less like he’s being consumed by the wolf and more like he’s the one doing the consuming, like he’s taking in too much of that side of himself, becoming too much animal in too little skin.
So it’s only Stiles and Lydia and the way they grip his shoulders that keeps him from ripping Allison’s throat out when she shows up on his doorstep smelling like wolfsbane and gunpowder and jasmine. Like a threat to him and his. Kate had smelled like roses and cypress and Derek had found that funny years later when he realized that both symbolized death.
Lydia is the one who steps up, or tries to, but Derek crowds her behind him, unwilling to give Allison a clear shot at her, unwilling to leave a member of his Pack open and unprotected. Derek can smell iron on the littlest huntress, iron and salt and what he knows now is verbena and St. John’s Wort.
Stiles now knows, thanks to his lessons with Deaton and hours spent pouring over books and tomes, how to banish most fae. He’d paid particular attention to anything that was even thought to affect a banshee. While none of them were sure just how affective those types of charms and herbs would be against Lydia, they were erring on the side of caution. Derek had been careful to memorize the scent of both plants so Lydia would never be taken off guard as long as he was around.
Derek had jumped at the opportunity to protect his Pack, had been eager to learn any weaknesses they might have. He is proud of their growing power and knowledge and is always more than happy to help Lydia fund her and Stiles’ trips to the occult store a few towns over or anywhere else they need to look to find the things they need. He is always honored to provide the blood needed to set some of the charms and protections Stiles weaves in place.
He’d bleed himself dry for them, would pour his life into a glass and watch Stiles swallow it down happily if he needed to, if Stiles asked him sweetly with that mouth of his curved and his eyes bright.
“It’s alright Derek.” Stiles whispers to him then, voice low and calm and it soothes Derek like so few things do.
He flicks red eyes towards Stiles, sees the way his mate has one hand on his shoulder and the other up his own shirt. Derek knows that Stiles’ palm is resting over his Spark sign, ready and willing to fight and protect. It’s a gesture that Stiles is powerful enough not to need but knowing that his mate is alert and cautious relaxes Derek a degree.
He might be the Alpha, might be willing to burn down the town, the world, for them but he also knows that neither of them are weak.
He’s seen how powerful Stiles is now, has seen and felt how strong his Spark has become. Sometimes he cannot help but be in awe of the boy, his mate, so beautiful and powerful and perfect.
Plus, friends or not, Derek knows that Lydia will protect herself from Allison, will defend herself and her Pack with blood and voice and power just as Stiles would. Derek hasn’t seen it yet but he knows that Peter’s disappearance and the stone around Lydia’s neck are connected, that she and Stiles had worked some kind of magic that made Lydia stronger as well. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn't feel the need to ask really because he trusts them, but he can feel it, can almost taste it in the air around Lydia sometimes.
Derek steps to the side and watches Lydia rise up out of his shadow, all poised elegance and fiery hair with teasing hints of silver. Her nature is beginning to shine through, her form shifting to reflect her true self, and Stiles had told him weeks ago that Lydia’s hair will be completely silver in a year or so. Derek kind of hopes she doesn’t try to hide it, thinks it suits her, like Stiles’ ever brightening eyes and the marks they all wear.
“What do you need Allison?” Lydia asks, voice mild and sweet and just vaguely poisonous. Derek can smell the hurt on her, the hurt and the anger, and it makes a part of him want to claw Allison apart. She’s a good girl, brave and strong and so determined now to change her family. But being brave and smart also makes her a threat and Derek has learned to never overlook a threat, no matter how pretty the packaging or how harmless the wrappings seem. A sweet mouthed viper had burned his family alive once already and he refuses to watch it happen again.
“I wanted to see you, all of you. Make sure you were okay. I … I’ve gone by your house Lydia and you … you’re never home. Your mom thinks you have a new boyfriend but I know you haven’t been with anyone since Aiden left so…” Allison trails off and Derek hears her pulse kick up for a brief second before she levels it out, turns it even and calm in that false way he hates.
His wolf snarls at the mention of Aiden, of that uppity little monster who’d thought he was good enough for Lydia, for daring to touch what was Derek’s after what he’d done to Boyd and Erica. Derek had wanted to tear his throat out, to claw open his chest and feed him his own heart, but Lydia had given him that look, that silent almost sad stare, and Derek had backed down.
Lydia hadn’t loved Aiden, hadn’t been anywhere close to it, not with the way Jackson’s shadow still trailed her. But she’d gotten something from the wolf that she’d needed and Derek would never begrudge her that. His only consolation was that she never brought him to the loft and always, always, showered before she came over after she’d been with him so Derek wouldn’t have to smell him on her so powerfully.
Still he doesn’t deny the fact that he’s thrilled the little bastard was gone.
“Well.” Lydia drawls the word out and Derek can practically taste her smirk and has to press down his own answering grin. She always goes vapid and saccharine sweet in a way that doesn’t fool any of them anymore, right before she strikes. “As you can see I’m perfectly fine. Just spending my abundant free time with Stiles and Derek, working on some …. projects.”
“Don’t do this Lydia. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I know things have been crazy since everything that happened but don’t push me away. Please.” Allison is as close to pleading as Derek has seen her in a long time, pretty brown eyes glistening with tears and youth.
“Allison you’re my friend, one of the best I’ve ever had. But you left, after everything, after the motel and the Alpha’s and that bitch trying to strangle me. After all of that you still left, glued yourself to Scott and Isaac like I didn’t exist for weeks. I don’t know what you expected me to do Allison because I don’t pine. It’s not my style, unlike some.” Lydia says it all smoothly, softly, but with that reverberation of steel and power in her voice that has become so much a part of her. Derek hears Stiles snort beside him and he can’t help but crack a small smile of his own because he knows that Lydia meant that for them as well as for Allison.
“I’m sorry Lydia. I really am. I just … with everything going on I didn’t know what to do.” Allison manages to stutter out.
Derek sees the line of Lydia’s shoulders soften, can practically smell the moment she relents.
“I’m fine Allison. Stiles and Derek have been taking care of me, keeping me safe and strong and happy.” Lydia cuts an almost fond look back over her shoulder at them and Derek bares his fangs back at her, a teasing little gesture that makes Lydia smile and Allison jolt.
“I know we, I, still have a lot to make up to you Lydia but don’t let yourself get drawn into this unless you have to. I know you miss Jackson…”Allison takes a step forward towards Lydia, hand out stretched and beseeching and Derek cannot help but stiffen.
“Don’t.” Lydia says sharply, voice going high and harsh before she gets it back under control. “Don’t talk about Jackson. Don’t say his name and don’t try to use him against me. I’m not human anymore Allison, I don’t know if I ever was, so I’m in this no matter what. I know you might not understand or agree but we’re Pack now, the three of us.” Derek hears Lydia take a deep breath and he wants to reach out to her, wants to put his hand on her shoulder and give her his strength, but he also knows she doesn’t need it. “We fill the holes for each other that other people have left in us. I’m as close to truly happy as I’ve been in a long time. They do that for me, we do that for each other.”
Allison stares at Lydia for a long moment before she turns her gaze to Derek and then to Stiles. Derek knows what she sees when she looks at him, knows that her training lets her see the way they are stiff, prepared to fight and kill to protect each other. He knows that she sees Stiles’ hand in his shirt, knows that she sees the way he himself is still tense, claws and fangs and eyes all readily apparent.
“Isaac told me what he saw, what he walked in on.” Allison says it abruptly and if Derek wasn’t already expecting it he would have been surprised.
“Do you have a point?” Stiles is the one who asks the question, tries to sound calm and collected but there is an unmistakable bite in his voice, a warning to tread carefully. “Because I’m pretty sure Isaac doesn’t know what he walked in on.”
“I don’t … I didn’t…. I just mean that’s between the three of you and I’m glad you’ve all found something that makes you happy. Whatever that is. But Scott won’t feel the same, we all know it, and Isaac, Isaac will tell him, no matter what I say. I got him to hold off on it, got him to give me the chance to talk to you. But Isaac will tell him and it’s not going to be pretty.” Allison gets it out in a rush and Derek is struck again by how young she seems sometimes, how those famous Argent nerves fail her over the strangest things before she pulls herself back together.
“Is that why you came here? To threaten us with Scott? To what? Tell us not to hurt him? That we shouldn’t be around each other and that we should all slink off to different corners and forget what we’ve been through together?” Stiles asks the questions in that rapid fire way he has and Derek snarls, loud and long at the very idea of letting the two of them go, of losing this Pack, these people who have become so very much his so very quickly. He will rip apart the fabric of time, will see the world turned to cinder and death before he lets that happen.
“No.” Allison says it low and soft and sweetly sincere. “No, I came because no matter what, no matter what’s happened, I still think of you as friends, all three of you, and I don’t want to fight with you. Not over something like this.”
“Then don’t. Don’t fight us over this Allison. Don’t fight us over something you and Scott and Isaac don’t understand. Don’t do that to us and don’t do that to yourself.” Derek says, tries his best to make it come out as non-threatening as possible despite the way his fangs are dagger sharp and his eyes glow bright and hauntingly crimson. “You won’t win. None of you will.”
Allison stares at them all again for a moment, tracks her eyes from one to the next before she shakes her head and turns for the door.
“I’ll go. But I’ll see you soon, all of you. I want to see you soon.” She smiles one last time, and then she’s gone, disappearing out the door suddenly just as Isaac had.
There’s silence in the loft for a moment while Derek tracks her heartbeat down and away from their den, hears her car engine start and tracks it out of the lot. Then he’s finally able to relax, finally able to pull the wolf completely back, to gentle it now that the danger has passed for the moment.
“She was armed.” He finds himself saying, eyes on Lydia who has turned to face him and ears on Stiles who has pressed himself against his side again. “She had something, a knife maybe, and it was for you Lydia, a mix of everything you and Stiles warned me about.”
“I know.” Lydia murmurs, eyes blank and distant for a moment before she snaps back. “I know she did. Allison’s a good friend and I don’t think she’d ever attack me but she’s also a hunter and no matter how she’s changed her oath we all know she likes to be prepared. Can’t blame her for it really, not even if I could feel it; like a threat looming right in front of me. It made me want to scream.” Then her lips curl up at the corners and her face takes on that sharp devious look that she only gets when she has a secret. “But it doesn’t matter because I have something she doesn’t know about either.”
Derek sees the way she raises a her hand and taps a blood red nail against the stone she wears around her neck, tucked snuggly against the base of her throat.
He still hasn’t asked about Peter or what happened but he’s still certain that he doesn’t really want to know.
Derek has fucked Stiles beside Lydia more times than he can count now, has buried his knot in his mate’s warm and willing body as Lydia cooed and petted them both through their pleasure. It has become a part of who they are, of how they interact with each other. There had been a brief moment where Derek had been jealous over the very thought of Lydia seeing Stiles bare and vulnerable, fucked out and blissful from his cock and hands and mouth, but he’d gotten past that quickly enough.
Now he takes his boy when the mood strikes either of them, lifts and bends, pushes and pulls Stiles around so he can fuck him hard and fast or soft and slow, until they’re both sore and so very satisfied.
Now he has Stiles whenever he can, wherever he can, greedily grabs at every moment he can have with him, and does not worry about Lydia and what she sees or thinks and feels. He knows that Stiles and Lydia love each other now but that it is different from what Stiles used to want from her. He knows now that he and Stiles have no reason to hide what they are and what they do to each other from Lydia. Derek has never really understood the shame and secrecy that humans so often attach to sex anyways.
Now it’s Friday night, Lydia has gone off to spend time with her dad, or more accurately his credit card, the Sheriff is pulling yet another double shift in a long line of guilt induced double shifts and Derek has Stiles all to himself.
It is something that doesn’t happen that often with the way that the three of them tend to spend all of their free time together now but Derek isn’t really bothered about it. Lydia is Pack, belongs to Derek and Stiles, and they belong to her as well. There are no secrets between them, nothing to hide or cover up or pretend isn’t happening.
Still Derek finds that he wants to make it special somehow, wants to make the night special in a way he’s not felt the urge to do in years.
So Derek cooks, makes lasagna and cheddar bread and sets aside a small bowl of fruit and cheese, something they can feed each other later while they sit on the couch or lay in bed. Derek wants to make the night feel special because it is special to him because he’ll be with Stiles. He doesn’t want Stiles to ever doubt his devotion, doesn’t want his boy to ever think he doesn’t care or anything like that. Derek knows he isn’t good with words yet, not like he used to be, knows that he relies on his actions speaking for him more often than not and he doesn’t want to lose Stiles because of that.
He feels kind of ridiculous doing it at first, thinks he’s making too big of a deal out of nothing. But then he shakes it off and reminds himself that Stiles is different, that he’ll understand what Derek is trying to do. Derek knows that Stiles will appreciate it because Stiles always appreciates things. Stiles knows what it feels like to take something for granted only to have it snatched away.
Derek will never let his own emotional problems, his own stubborn pride, drive Stiles away. He swore to be a better Alpha for Stiles and Lydia, swore to not make the same mistakes as before. So now he’ll do his best to show Stiles the things he feels like he can’t say just right.
Stiles freezes when he saunters into the loft. The way his eyes widen and then soften dramatically as they sweep over the food and the way Derek is standing, slightly nervous, beside the table, makes it all worth it.
“What’s the occasion?” Stiles asks him softly, and Derek can’t help but smile at the way he can tell Stiles is mentally checking the date.
“No occasion.” Derek reassures him quietly, eyes raking over Stiles’ figure, flushed and hair wild like it always is when he rides around in his Jeep with the windows down or when Derek fucks him till he’s breathless and on the verge of tears.
“But you cooked.” Stiles murmurs back to him gently and there is a soft sort of curiosity in his face.
“You do it all the time for me and Lydia; you care for us like it’s what you were created to do. I wanted to do it for you, just you for the first time, something for the two of us.” Derek takes a step forward and then another and another until he’s right in front of Stiles, until he can reach out and wrap his hands around Stiles’ waist under the fabric of yet another one of his stolen shirts.
“You do take care of me Derek, of both of us, we three take care of each other. It’s how it should be. You don’t have to do these kinds of things. I thought we broke you from trying to repay us for stuff. Seriously dude this needs to stop.” Stiles stops and Derek watches in amusement as he takes a deep breath and his eyes go wide. “That bread man, smells fucking amazing, you’ll have to give me that recipe later cause I’m pretty sure I’m going to come when I eat the first piece….”
Derek laughs, can’t help the way joy wells up in him when Stiles trails off and stares up at him obviously amused and confused all at the same time. Derek tangles the fingers of one hand in Stiles’ hair and pulls his boy into a kiss, sweeps his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and relishes the tastes he finds there. It’s been hours since he last kissed Stiles, hours since he felt him beneath his hands and mouth, and Derek has missed him. Sometimes he misses Stiles when he’s still buried inside of him.
“It’s not about repaying anything Stiles. This is about us, me and you.” Derek whispers against Stiles’ mouth when he finally breaks the kiss.
“What about us?” Stiles pants up at him, eyes heavy lidded and mouth already swollen.
“We’re mated Stiles. You’re mine and I’m yours and I don’t want to mess that up.” Derek sighs and leans down so he can rest his forehead against Stiles’. He closes his eyes when one of Stiles’ hands come up to run along his jawline.
“Why do you think you’re gonna mess things up?” Stiles asks him softly, voice gentle as his fingers trace their way over Derek’s cheekbones.
“I’m … I’m not good with words anymore. Not when it really matters. I used to be, before, but I spent so much time drifting, letting Laura pull me along …. I just don’t want to lose you, lose this, because I can’t tell you what you need to hear all of the time.” The thought of losing Stiles make his wolf keen makes it thrash and howl and flood him with thoughts of his his his will kill to keep will never lose can never lose mine mine mine StilesmateStilesmateStileshome.
“Shit Derek.” Stiles kisses him then, slots their mouths together and takes control of the kiss in a way that he rarely does but it always sets Derek’s blood on fire. When Stiles pulls away Derek can’t help but chase the kiss, can’t help the way he leans forward after Stiles’ mouth for a second before Stiles starts talking. “Just … Just listen to me okay? Really listen.”
Stiles sounds so serious that Derek stiffens, pulls back an inch so he can stare down into wide amber eyes. He always listens to Stiles, has always listened to him even when he didn’t want to, even if he didn’t take his advice. He can’t help but hear Stiles, can pick his voice, his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing, out of a crowded room, out of a fucking a high school. Stiles rarely sounds so serious outside of a fight.
“You are not going to lose me Derek. Not because you forget to say things, or because I do all the cooking, or for whatever shitty reason you can think of. I, we, aren’t like that. I’m in this for life, just like you. You might have mated me Derek but I mated you right back okay? Stilinski men mate for life too alright? So we’re going to eat this diner you made, that seriously smells amazing thank you so much for doing that by the way cause I’m totally touched and gooey inside, and then we’re going to bed. We’re going to have sex so good that it’ll make strangers jealous. Then we’re going to get up and do it all over again tomorrow. Sound good to you?” Stiles stares up at him, eyes wide and expression determined. There’s a hint of darkness in Stiles’ eyes that Derek recognizes and realization hits him square in the chest all of a sudden. Derek feels himself go hot on the inside because he can see all of the things Stiles is trying to tell him in his boy’s eyes.
Stiles loves him, loves him wholly and completely and dangerously and Derek cannot wait to explore that with his boy.
“Sounds perfect.” Derek grins sharply, leans down and nips at the length of Stiles’ neck and then pulls back and moves towards the table and the food. He dishes up their plates while he listens to Stiles chatter about his day. He tells Derek about how his dad’s pulling more shifts than ever at the station, about how Stiles still hadn’t had any contact with Scott besides the occasional text and phone call and how Isaac won’t stop watching him in the halls at school.
Derek eats slowly, more concerned with watching the way Stiles talks with his whole body, with how amazing he smells wrapped in Derek’s clothes, settled safely in their den as they eat together. There’s laughter and jokes, Stiles leans forward and feeds him a bite of cheddar bread and Derek gets up to get Stiles another drink without being asked. It’s all so natural and domestic it makes Derek’s breath catch.
He can see the future spread out before him, an endless procession of days and nights with Stiles and Lydia and her future mate all clustered together with him somewhere safe and warm and theirs.
Derek sees pups and holidays and strange homey things he’s never really thought about but suddenly wants with a fiery passion. He wants lazy Sunday mornings, wants arguments over what color to paint the kitchen, or who gets the comics section of the newspaper first. He wants an eternity of Lydia’s fashion critiques and Stiles militant attitude towards proper nutrition. Derek realizes in a flash that he wants kids someday, little ones with Stiles smile or his eyes or Lydia’s hair and terrifying intellect, kids with Stiles’ cunning and his wolf shining in their eyes.
He knows that Stiles is too young in all of the ways that will matter to everyone else when it comes to the things he’s thinking about but Derek doesn’t see him that way. He sees Stiles as older than his body, as someone aged by their experiences and all of the shit he’s been through. He might call Stiles his boy, but he doesn’t see him as a child, never has really. Derek’s glad for that because he’s ninety percent sure that it wouldn’t have mattered either way, that he would have taken Stiles regardless, and he doesn’t necessarily like what that says about him.
“I’m going to rebuild the house.” Derek doesn’t mean to blurt it out but he can’t keep the thought contained once it has taken root in his mind. He can tell that his words catch Stiles off guard by the way that he chokes slightly and then hastily reaches for his drink.
“When did you decide that?” Stiles manages to ask after a few seconds.
“Honestly? About four seconds ago.” Derek chuckles as the unimpressed look Stiles gives him and catches the piece of bread that flies towards him in his teeth.
“You’re a fucking animal.” Stiles mutters but there’s a smile on his face.
“Yeah but you love it.” Derek smirks and lets his eyes flash red, a flirtatious move that never fails to make Stiles flush. “Particularly when I’m fucking you.”
“I can’t even pretend to disagree with that.” Stiles shrugs unapologetically and pops another piece of bread into his mouth. “So what made you decide to rebuild the old place? Loft life getting to you?”
Derek fiddles with his fork for a moment, suddenly bashful and almost shy feeling. He isn’t sure how to tell Stiles what he wants. Even though Stiles is his mate, even though they’ve pledged themselves to each other, he still feels hesitant to say it all aloud, no matter how much he wants it. And he does want it, wants it so bad he can almost taste it.
“Derek?” Stiles reaches across the table and gently puts a hand on top of his free one. “You can tell me. You know you can tell me anything right?”
“It’s just, we’ll need a bigger place, afterwards, when you and Lydia are done with college. I want us to have a home, somewhere we can all be together, somewhere safe and solid and ours. Somewhere we can run. The house is perfect for that, has tons of land and room to roam.” Derek stares Stiles in the face as he talks so he sees the moment his words register, sees the way Stiles looks abruptly amused.
“You know Lydia’s going to completely take over any design choices either of us try to make right? Like you’ll basically be bankrolling her dream house cause she’s not going to be satisfied with anything less than perfection.” Stiles laughs and Derek can’t help but shake his head in amusement.
“Sounds fine to me. I’ve got the money and then some to build her whatever she deems necessary for us to live in.” Derek’s mood abruptly takes a dive at the thought. Money would never be an issue for him again, not with the insurance policies that had come due and the various investments his family had made over the years. All of which had transferred to him when Laura was murdered and he was left alone in all of the ways that mattered.
There’s a scrape of a chair on the floor and then suddenly Stiles is in his space, bright eyes locked on his in understanding even as he urges Derek to push his chair away from the table far enough for him to settle in his lap. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles instantly, holds him close and buries his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck so he can lip at the mating mark he’d left there.
“Hey big guy, it’s alright.” Stiles whispers in his ear as he reaches up runs his hands through Derek’s hair. “You’ve got us now and we’ve got you. You’ll never be alone again okay? We’re gonna be together Derek. Me, you, Lydia, and whoever she decides is worthy of her. No matter what we’re going to be together. We’re Pack remember?”
Derek nods against Stiles’ neck, can’t contain the rush of warmth that curls through him at Stiles’ words. He knows they’re true, can hear it in Stiles’ heartbeat, can feel it in his own bones, and knows that Lydia would feel the same way, will feel the same way once she comes back to where she belongs and they talk about it.
“You’re going to make us a house. We’re going to have a home, somewhere for us to be together just like you said and it’s going to be perfect.” Stiles mouths at the lobe of Derek’s ear in a way that makes his eyes flash and his arms tighten around Stiles’ waist. “We’re going to move in together and spend every night together. No more being apart, no more sleeping alone, no more late night phone calls and window creeping. We’re going to be together forever.”
Derek groans, the sound low and filled with longing, at the thought, at the idea of actually living with Stiles and Lydia instead of the delicate shuffling that’s become their lives at the moment. The thought of going to sleep with them each night, of waking to them every morning, made Derek want to roar in victory.
Instead he raises his head and kisses Stiles, takes his mouth in a deep, slow kiss that makes Stiles whine in the back of his throat and clench his hands in Derek’s hair.
It’s all the encouragement Derek needs to surge up out of his chair and gain his feet. Stiles wraps himself around Derek, clings to his waist and neck even as the kiss continues. Derek leans forward slightly and shoves all of the dishes to one side, doesn’t even care when one of the empty plates flies off of the table and shatters on the floor a few feet away.
All he cares about is Stiles, getting his mouth and his hands on Stiles, his cock in him. It burns him up inside, the vibrant, desperate need to inside of his boy and Derek doesn’t even try to resist. Clothes rip and tear and Derek has a vague thought that he’ll have to replace some of Stiles’ wardrobe soon but then he shakes it off because he’ll just keep dressing Stiles in his clothes instead. He’ll keep Stiles wrapped in his scent, a warning to anyone who comes too close.
Finally Derek has Stiles naked, laid out on the table like an offering, and he has to take a minute to breathe and stare.
Stiles is beautiful and when Derek has him laid out, all eager and willing like his is now, Derek knows what it feels like to truly be a beast. It’s in moments like this that sometimes all Derek wants is to break Stiles open like a fruit. Wants to sink his teeth and claws into him so Derek can pick him apart and eat him piece by piece like pomegranate seeds.
He knows it’s impossible but it doesn’t lessen the want, the insatiable urge to dominate and consume and conquer every part of Stiles he can.
He flips Stiles over, works him open with his tongue and his fingers. When Derek finally slips his cock inside of him, presses his fingers deep enough into Stiles’ hips to leave bruises as they both hiss through that first initial push, the bliss is almost too much to take.
Derek fucks Stiles slowly then, does his best to show Stiles how he feels, worships him with his hands and his tongue and his cock, with his heart and his mind.
Stiles is the royalty of Derek’s existence and Derek is the huntsman, the servant, down on bended knee begging for his heart and his favor. And he does want both, because in their story there’s no evil queen, no wicked stepmother. There’s only Derek and the wolf that lives behind his eyes that wants to eat Stiles like prey and fuck him like mate and bite into the wet ripe apple of his soul and devour him like he has already devoured Derek.
Derek loves Stiles so much it makes him want to sob and scream and laugh. He loves him with a fervor that would scare him if it didn’t feel so fucking right. In Stiles he sees everything he’d ever wished for, everything he could ever want or need, or possibly imagine. He eclipses everyone that Derek has ever touched or tasted until there’s only Stiles and Derek has never been so happy to be consumed.
Stiles is light so bright it eats away at everything around it and Derek is the darkness that came first, the absence, the void, that has been waiting for him for years. Oh he’d waited and waited and waited for longer than he’d known. Sometimes Derek thinks he’d been waiting for Stiles since the moment he was born. Maybe longer.
When Derek finally comes it’s with a laugh that doubles as a roar because he has Stiles now and forever and Derek will never let him go.
He doesn’t think the world would survive if anyone ever tried to make him.
“I came back wrong.” Stiles tells him late one night a week or so later in the darkness of their bed. Lydia is back where she belongs, her slender body is wrapped around Derek’s back and Stiles is pressed against his front. “I came back wrong, darker. And Lydia … not all of Lydia came back in the first place. She’s missing pieces that we can’t give back to her Derek, no matter how much we want to.”
Derek knows Stiles is telling the truth, can feel it more than hear it in the sound of his heartbeat. He knows that there is something darker about Stiles than there was months ago when they first met. He knows that the Lydia sleeping so peacefully behind him in her elegant nightgown isn’t the same Lydia he met the first time and that not all of her changes can be chalked up to personal growth.
He can feel it whenever he’s around them, like the way he can feel the moon when it rises and sets, like something tugging at him, begging for his attention.
He can’t help but think it’s beautiful and kind of terrible like the moon is beautiful and terrible all at the same time.
“Deaton’s keeping an eye on me now, is kind of reluctant to teach me new stuff. He thinks I’m advancing too fast. Especially since you brought me the grimoire.” Stiles’ voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Do you want me to kill him?” Derek asks because he would, would kill the emissary in a heartbeat if Stiles asked him to, if Stiles wanted him to.
“No, no I don’t want you to do that, not when he’s never tried to do anything to hurt me. Besides he’s still useful. But I think … I think he might want to kill me someday. There’s something in the way he’s looked at me for weeks now, like he’s debating, like he’s searching for something.” Stiles whispers it into the warmth of Derek’s throat. “I think I frighten him.”
“Good. He should be scared of you.” Derek can’t help but lean down and lick a strip up the side of his boy’s throat before he pulls back enough to speak again. “You’re powerful Stiles. So strong and brave, so filled up with magic that I can almost taste it sometimes.”
“But what if … what if he’s right Derek? What if I didn’t come back right? What if the nematon did something to me, took something from me that’ll hurt you later? Hurt Lydia? What if the darkness on my heart is different than everyone else?” Stiles sounds almost afraid and Derek hates it, hates the sense of doubt that has begun to creep into his voice, the doubt that doesn’t belong there.
“You came back perfect Stiles.” He whispers it into Stiles’ ear because he thinks it’s true too. Stiles came back better; harder and smarter and closer to what he should be and further from what he was. “I always knew you’d be perfect for me, that if I could get my hands and mouth on you, make you mine, you’d be everything I could ever ask you for. And you are Stiles, you’re more than I ever thought I’d have.”
“You are too Derek. You’re perfect for me, you know that right? I know I don’t tell you enough, never enough, but it’s true.” Stiles reaches up and cups his jaw in his palm and Derek can’t help but turn into the touch, can’t help the way his wolf wines high and sharp and needy in the back of his mind.
He rolls Stiles over, nudges him until he’s lying on his side with his back pressed against Derek’s chest. He runs his hand down Stiles’ chest, traces his fingers over Stiles’ stomach until he can cup his cock through the thin barrier of his underwear. Derek squeezes slightly, feels Stiles thicken in his hand and groans low in his chest and he mouths at the side of Stiles’ neck.
Stiles bucks up into his grip and then he’s pushing at Derek’s hand, ignoring his displeased rumble so he can push his underwear down and off. Derek is quick to get his hand back around Stiles’ cock, quick to wedge his other hand between them to free his own cock from the fabric that traps it.
He hisses at the feel of Stiles’ skin, at the way his cock slides between the cheeks of Stiles’ ass easily and nudges up against his hole that is still wet and open and oh so willing.
He’d had Stiles so good earlier, had once again spread him across the kitchen table Lydia had ordered him to buy like a feast. Derek’d ate him out until Stiles was sobbing, until neither one of them could take it anymore, and then he’d fucked him, hard and slow and then shallow and fast. He’d fucked Stiles until he’d had no choice but to pick him up and lay him on the couch, to bend him over the arm to support him so he could keep on fucking him. He’d filled Stiles with his knot, had drowned his insides with so much of his come that even now, hours later, Stiles is still open and slick and perfect.
Derek reaches up and wraps a hand around the graceful line of Stiles’ throat as he pushes inside, tightens his grip just a bit as they both hiss at the feel of it. Then, when he’s all the way inside he can’t help but move, can’t help but thrust and thrust, can’t help but fuck himself deeper and deeper inside of Stiles.
Derek knows that he’ll never be deep enough inside of Stiles, will never be able to get enough of him, to give enough of himself.
“I’d kill everyone for you Stiles.” Derek growls into his mate’s ear as he fucks him deep and hard, one hand around his throat as the other milks Stiles’ cock in a slow, steady rhythm. “I’d burn the whole world and lay the ashes at your feet if anyone ever tried to take you away from me.” He says it like a pledge, like a prayer and a promise. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’ll always be mine.” It’s a demand and a plea.
“I am. I swear I am. You’re mine too Derek, always mine. Don’t ever be afraid I’ll leave you Derek. I’ll turn all your fears to ash.” Stiles pants out and then laughs and comes over the circle of Derek’s fingers.
The joy Derek can smell in Stiles’ scent, the euphoria he can feel jumping through their shared Spark as he pushes himself even deeper inside of Stiles and comes, is the same thing as a promise.