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Stiles runs.
It's stupid. You don't run from werewolves--it's one of the first lessons he learned.
But, the fear has him.
The moon is full overhead, lighting his way through the dense forest, but, in the end, he trips over a root, sprawling inelegantly in the dirt and fallen leaves. A chill wind sweeps across him, bringing with it a howl.
Too close.
Panting for breath, he grabs the tree, uses it as leverage, pushes himself to his feet.
It's too late.
The wolf comes out of the brush ahead of him. It circled him.
He was never going to get away.
Derek's in his beta form barely, shoulders heaving, face twisting. Red eyes lock on Stiles and he stumbles backwards, hands held out in useless placation. Fangs flash and he yelps.
Derek grins around those fangs, licking his lips, and before Stiles can think of a way out, he lunges and takes them both down to the ground.
Grunting in pain, Stiles struggles but it's hopeless. He's going to be devoured by the wolf.
Straddling his squirming hips, Derek yanks the sides of his red cloak open and leers down at the pale, sweat slicked flesh, the cock, half-hard from fear and adrenaline. Stiles is naked, ready to be taken, to be the wolf's well-earned reward. Hands pin his chest down, knees trap his legs, and Derek slides backwards, leans down and devours his cock, swallowing to the root.
Stiles yells in pleasure, bucking as best he can, dick hardening all the way and already leaking. One clawed hand wraps around the base, pumping his dick into Derek's mouth where the fangs are a threat, the mouth is a hot suction, the throat a velvet trap.
Beating on the hard ground, trying to get away, to get closer, to get more, Stiles squirms, but he's prey caught by the predator and he's at the wolf's mercy. He wants to thrust up and up and just come, but the hand tightens, preventing his orgasm, and the claws on the other hand grip his hip, scraping just enough to make him shiver in fear.
And pleasure.
The blow job goes on and on and the moon shines down and Derek is the wolf, hungry, fierce, deadly.
Finally, the hand around his dick slips to his other hip and he's lifted. His cock thrusts down Derek's throat and his hands flail out, finding the longer hair of the werewolf, and he digs in and yells as he comes so hard he whites out for a split second.
Panting harshly, Stiles opens exhausted eyes to see Derek, cum dripping down his chin, red eyes so incredibly hot, rise over him and fling his head back as he howls his victory to the moon. He watches as Derek tears open his jeans and carelessly wrap his clawed hand around his hard, red dick, jerking it hard and fast. It's slick with pre-cum, the glide easy, and Stiles can tell he's close as he growls and pants and shudders above him.
His own cock has softened, laying spent along one thigh, and he waits, breathless.
Derek howls again and comes in spurts across Stiles' belly and dick. After nearly a minute of shuddering and coming, the wolf drops his head, his hand slows, and when their eyes meet, his are green again.
The werewolf is gone.
"Little Red Riding Hood, really?" His lips twist in amusement.
Stiles grins back and plays with the edges of his red cloak. "Well, the big bad wolf always wants to eat me at the full moon."
Derek collapses next to him, tugging him half across his chest, wrapping the cloak back around him. "You and your games."
"Like you mind," he retorts lightly, playing with the drying cum on his stomach.
Leaning down, Derek kisses him. "Yeah, yeah."
"Such a sweet talker."
"That's you. I just lurk and hunt and pounce. I'm pretty sure you don't mind either." Derek leers and Stiles laughs and rolls on top of him because the moon is still full and the wolf is just beneath the surface and Derek can get it up even faster than he as a horny teenager can.
End