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triskhellion · 7 months

Text

Intarsia

Rated: Explicit (12.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Peter Hale

Tags: POV Derek, POV Isaac, Alpha Derek, Emissary in Training Stiles, Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Derek/Bottom Stiles, Light Bondage, Hickeys, Consensual Somnophilia, Idiots in Love, Cooking, Pack Shenanigans

Summary: Derek asks Isaac to make him a scarf for Stiles for reasons. The following weekend the pack is asked to check out potential supernatural activity at a cabin near Klamath Falls, Oregon. The others are unavailable, so it’s just the two of them. Derek brings along the scarf and ends up giving Stiles much more.

Artwork by Goss!

A playlist of my favorite songs by The National because Isaac's listening to them and Derek is broody and they're perfect broody fall music. (In no particular order.)

For WIP Big Bang 2023. (One of the first fics I actually started writing, begun about a year ago.)

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: Apple, Between, Falling Leaves, Flame, Knot, Song & Travel

Intarsia — a knitting technique used to create patterns with multiple colors. As with the woodworking technique of the same name, fields of different colors and materials appear to be inlaid in one another, fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Isaac

Isaac was listening to The National on vinyl and idly knitting the second of a pair of chocolate brown, chunky slipper socks for Scott’s upcoming birthday when Derek returned to their new loft apartment, trudging around downstairs. He straightened up on the navy loveseat in the second floor lounge area (or “cozy zone” as Stiles liked to call it) and rolled his eyes as the Alpha’s angst vibes preceded him.

“Hey, Derek” he said to the ascending werewolf, finishing his row before looking up. The older man nodded and his expression lightened from straight up scowling to mere resting bitch face.

“Isaac.”

He glanced out the window at the purpling sky then turned back to his project, pausing a couple minutes later when Derek didn’t move from where he leaned against the railing across from him. Isaac could feel him watching and heard the sound of his mouth opening and then closing again several times as Matt Berninger’s melancholy baritone crooned.

I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show show for you and crack you up. So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain, God I’m very, very frightened I’ll overdo it.

Another minute passed and he rolled his eyes again, taking a deep breath before meeting the waiting sheepish gaze, which then quickly slid away.

“Yeeeesss?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“You make…” Derek began, then started over. “Could you make a scarf for me? Please.”

“For you?” Isaac asked incredulously. He’d never seen Leather-Jacket Jeans McHenley in a scarf.

“It’s for someone else. To give to. From me,” Derek mumbled haltingly. “Whatever you need…use the pack account.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning at the flustered Alpha. “Any particular pattern or style? Type of yarn? What color?" There was a harsh exhale of frustration.

“I don’t know, a regular scarf.” Derek threw up his hands and then waved them around making snake like motions. “Kind of…deep red with like, some goldy-brown parts? A warm one.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, going through options in his head for several moments. “I’m thinking merino wool…cable knit…intarsia.” Blank stare. “Kind of a maroon with dark amber, yeah?” A frown and a single shoulder shrug. ”Riiight,” he drawled, smirking. “You know, like a certain hyperactive human’s favorite hoodie…” He tapped his finger against his chin like he was just now figuring out a mystery. “And perhaps the color of said human’s eyes in the light?”

Derek sputtered and shoved off from his perch with a glare, seeming as if to deny it before snapping his jaw shut with a growl instead and abruptly turning to walk towards his bedroom. Isaac laughed and called after the retreating wolf.

“I should have it done before the end of the week. I have to go to the craft store to get that special amber yarn.” The door slammed shut and he heard muffled grumbling about “goddamn chuckling betas” and how “back in the day Alphas were shown respect.” He leaned over and laughed even harder.

Derek

Derek walked out of his building practically buzzing and started running once he crossed the parking lot and made it past the first trees. It was a Monday night, the one before the full moon, and he was feeling antsy. Even more so than was usual. He figured another patrol of the territory would calm him down and satisfy his wolf’s extra protective instincts, not to mention get him away from his so very amused and impertinent beta. And if he happened by the Stilinski residence at some point, well it was on the way, okay?

Derek sighed. He asked Isaac to make the scarf yesterday after he and Stiles had gone searching that afternoon for a special type of lichen that Deaton wanted for some ritual or potion or whatever. He wasn’t really listening to the druid and just tagged along when he ran into Stiles while doing errands near the vet clinic. The perpetually excitable teen had been wearing a backpack and mentioned that he’d be going into the Preserve for “herbs and shit” after meeting with their sort-of-emissary and Derek hadn’t wanted him to go alone. Things had been quiet on the Creatures Eating Faces & Causing Havoc front for a while, but you never know.

It had taken them a few hours to collect enough of the sporadically growing, pale green vegetation to fill the container they’d been given and between the dampness of the forest and working up a sweat climbing over logs or partway up trees it had gotten pretty chilly for the human, especially once the sun started to set on the already overcast autumn day. Stiles had had his hands in his pockets and the hood of his Beacon Hills Community College sweatshirt up on the way back, but had still shivered when the wind blew through it and across the exposed skin of his neck.

That lithe, fair column with its smattering of chocolate dots, so perfect for marking. Derek groaned at the thought of it. So yes, Stiles needed a scarf. Both to keep him warm and to hide his dangerously alluring attributes. The only one not already covered in layers of baggy denim, over sized graphic tees and corresponding flannel.

(Well, except for his mouth, but it’s not like people went around in face masks all the time, haha. Or muzzles and the like in public. No those were for private activities, or so he’d seen on the internet. And could Stiles even function without putting pens and spoons and straws and toothpicks and pops of the lolli, freezer, and cake variety (courtesy of Lydia) between his lips on a regular basis? Or his own fingers? He even had the nerve to make eating chicken wings look good.)

But necks! He could do something about that. And then maybe he’d stop thinking about his packmate this way quite so often, at least until it warmed again. Definitely no other pervy wolves or similarly bestial shifters should catch a glimpse if it could be helped. He’s ours his wolf snarled and he couldn’t help agreeing before his all those negative thoughts and emotions kicked back in. No, he’s not. I can’t…I shouldn’t…

Derek ran through the forest until his muscles ached and then walked through the city in the wee hours, stopping for a few minutes by a particular house in the west part of town. One with a police cruiser and a beat up blue Jeep in the driveway. He could hear the steady heartbeats and slow breathing of two slumbering humans and could faintly smell the toasty man-soap-sweat scent of his a blanket-wrapped Stiles through the open left side window. He inhaled a few big lung fulls worth, making an unconscious rumbling sound, and then continued on toward home content for the moment.

A few days later he was brooding contemplating the Stiles situation again while making cheesy eggs, bacon, red skillet potatoes, and toast for a late breakfast. Isaac kept giving him these looks like there was something gross on his face (there wasn’t, he checked) before snatching up his portion of the meal, minus the toast, as soon as the platter hit the table. The younger man divided it between the two large flour tortillas he’d had waiting in front of him, added salsa verde, hot sauce, and sour cream, rolled them into burritos, and wrapped one in foil before shoving it into his messenger bag. He then grabbed a thermos of coffee, wedged it into his left elbow as he started eating the other burrito gripped in the same hand, and hurriedly went out the door, shaking his head and mumbling something that sounded like “enough“ and “idiots.”

Huh. Derek wasn’t sure what that was about, but hoped his beta got through his Thursday classes okay. Maybe Isaac had to work on that group project he’d been complaining about, the one that his least favorite professor assigned him with that girl who argued about everything and that guy that didn’t do any of the reading. Oh, college, he commiserated, glad that he’d never have to put up with that particular aggravation again.

He cleaned up and then spent a few hours wrapping up the Spanish to English history textbook translation he’d been working on for a client over the last several weeks. When he was done he got up, drank some water, and began stretching for his daily calisthenics. He was just about switch to the beginner’s tai chi he’d been learning online recently (a suggestion from the visiting weredingo therapist he saw for a while last year and still Skyped with occasionally from Australia) when his phone chimed. It was a text from Isaac.

Apparently, some human, but in-the-know acquaintance of his near Klamath Falls, OR was freaked out about quote unquote “potentially supernatural activity” around their family’s vacation spot/rental property and wanted to know if the Beacon Hills Pack could check it out this weekend.

<What kind of phenomena are they experiencing?> he asked, praying it wasn’t some real sketchy shit like artfully arranged piles of mutilated small animals, screaming haunted trees or arcane symbols drawn in blood and bile all over the place. If he ever had to deal with another hag, hostile non-corporeal entity or darach again it would be too soon.

<Clothing, trinkets, and plants from both inside and outside the cabin have gone missing.> Issac replied. <Strange noises day and night and several objects made of stones, mud, brambles, feathers, pine cones and owl pellets have also been found along the trail to the lake. The feeling of being watched and the reoccurring smell of electricity and honey. Sounds like some kind of fae creature to me.>

Derek concurred. Likely a troupe of pixies, though a mischievous witch or other magic-user wouldn’t be out of the question. Whatever or whoever it was seemed annoying, but pretty harmless. He had nothing better to do and it was an opportunity to keep his tracking skills sharp, so he agreed to investigate and shoo away the troublemaker.

The pack in residence was currently just him, Isaac, Stiles, Malia, and Peter. Technically. His crafty uncle remained mostly an enigma, holed up in some no doubt fancy penthouse somewhere and scheming who knows what. He generally saw the elder Hale every 3 weeks or so when he stopped by the loft to irritate Derek, feed him takeout, and “borrow” something from his library before disappearing into the ether again.

The others were away at college (Lydia and Jackson,) living in France (though Chris and Allison were really more pack-adjacent,) staying with relatives out of state (Erica and Boyd were in Ohio looking after the latter’s grandmother post hip replacement surgery and probably wouldn’t be back until after Christmas,) or “talking a break from all this mythical bullshit” (Scott, Co-Alpha Emeritus, snort, probably lost somewhere in Prague on his pre-vet school backpacking trip which was totally, definitely, he absolutely swore not going to take him through France. Uh-huh.)

The cabin was only around 3 hours away, but driving there and back and having time to properly assess, find, and confront the mischievous entity could end up calling for more than a day trip. Isaac had 3 classes on Fridays and shifts at the movie theater afterward and all day Saturday so he was out.

Derek messaged the rest of the pack in town to see if anyone else was available. Peter was surprisingly the first to answer, but it was a crying laughing emoji followed by a succinct “No.” Stiles replied between his two Thursday classes with a “You son of a bitch, I’m in” gif, multiple exclamation points, and a thumbs up. Derek rolled his eyes and grinned.

Malia didn’t respond at all. It was equally likely that she was either coyoted-out or forgot about the existence of her phone and left it to die in her couch cushions again. So Stiles and him it was then. Perfect. The eager sophomore had only one late morning class on Fridays so they could leave by 2:00pm tomorrow after grabbing their bags.

<Pack your shit tonight> he texted Stiles, knowing the fledgling Spark and resident researcher would want to bring all manner of reference books and magic-user supplies. If left to his own devices the impulsive, but thorough human would be running around like a chicken without a head tomorrow afternoon looking for this and that very essential item at the last minute. <Alpha order.>

<Yes sir, Alpha sir> Stiles replied with a picture of a young adult wolf wagging its tail and showing its belly. Aughruuahhgg, his brain shorted, making him first imagine Stiles as a beautiful russet wolf frolicking with him in full shift (if only) and then as his very human young adult self exposing his belly in the same way, neck bared and open mouthed…

“Moooving onnn” he said out loud to himself, shaking his head to try to derail that train of thought.

Isaac told Derek that his grateful former classmate, a young man unfortunately named Todd, was going to prepare the cabin for them. A housekeeping service would clean everything and put out fresh linens, the fridge and pantry would be fully stocked and completely at their disposal, and he’d also make sure that any amenities were ready to use. The beta also passed along that they could stay through Monday if they wanted to as thanks for their efforts regardless of the outcome and then gave him Todd’s number in case of emergency.

<Sounds good> he replied. He was actually looking forward to this.

The last time he’d gotten out of town was the weeklong All Pack trip to the beach after a bunch of them graduated from high school the previous summer, a good 16 or 17 months ago. The seemingly never-ending torrent of “mythical bullshit” (Scott wasn’t wrong about that,) psycho hunters, and whatnot had finally slowed to a crawl and the pack had yet to begin scattering. Everyone had been there, including Allison and Chris, Melissa and the Sheriff, Parrish, and even Danny. Before then it had been when Cora had come up for a visit that Spring with her girlfriend, Dominque, and he, Peter, and Malia had gone to Portland for a weekend with them.

Sigh. Last year they had finally gotten their shit together. He had finally gotten his shit together. He’d strengthened his bonds with Boyd & Erica, the three of them apologizing to each other and him promising to be a better Alpha. Derek showed Isaac and Jackson how much he really cared and he’d spent time ranging in full shift with Malia and teaching her to navigate human bureaucracy. He called Cora at least once a month.

Derek screamed, cried, fought, and hugged it out with Peter one night when his uncle came over with a veritable Japanese feast — okonomiyaki, karaage, gyudon, yakisoba, and shoyu tonkotsu ramen with chashu pork and soft boiled eggs — and they both got proper drunk on the accompanying wolfsbane-infused 12 year old Yamazaki single malt whisky. They hadn’t spoken of it since, but much of the heaviness, distance, and weaponized cruelty that remained between them faded after they finally said all that they needed to say to each other, waking up the next morning with aching heads and wearing each other’s blood and tears, but with Derek held in his uncle’s arms.

Hell, he and Scott even kind of started getting along and figuring out how to be two Alphas in the same territory with allied and somewhat overlapping packs. Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Malia, and Peter were straightforwardly his; Liam, Corey, Mason, and Kira were Scott’s (though Derek was checking in with them while the younger Alpha was away finding himself,) but Isaac, Lydia, and Stiles kind of belonged to them both, however that worked.

I think I know exactly how Isaac wishes it worked, he snickered, wondering if his beta, the True Alpha, and the Huntress would ever resolve whatever the hell was going on there. Scott and Allison were currently on a break (again), Isaac was not-so-subtly mooning over Scott, but was known to make heart eyes at mention of them both (what’s a stabbing or 20 between crushes?)

When Scott and Allison were last officially together at the pack hangout a month before she went to France they’d taken to giggling and blushing while stealing glances at the beta, who pretended not to notice, but ended up crocheting an exceptionally fugly oven mitt that night, which Stiles dubbed “The Cursed Hand.”

As for the others, Kira had dated Scott briefly during one of his and Allison’s earlier off-phases, but they’d called it quits amicably. The kitsune was currently dating Jordan Parrish and Derek made sure to keep a fire extinguisher around. Liam was single after he and Hayden broke up and she moved away last year, Corey and Mason were still adorably together, and Peter was no doubt happily slutting it up across Beacon County and beyond.

Malia wasn’t much interested in romance, but every once in a while she’d feel the urge to go hunt down some willing frat boy or open mic performance artist and drag him off to her studio for what Derek once overheard an astonished college student covered in hickeys call “the most terrifying, confusing, and hottest sex of my life.” When she answered her door he took one look at her smug, predatory face and decided he could go over how to do taxes another time.

Lydia and Jackson kept their medium-distance relationship going, her in Cambridge, MA (MIT) and him in New Haven, CT (Yale.)

Derek missed having everyone home and hoped most, if not all of them, would be back for good within a few years. At least Erica and Boyd would return in a couple months. In the meantime they’d make it work.

<You know the drill> he messaged his Second. <Hold down the fort and let me know if anything happens. If you don’t hear from either me or Stiles twice a day, by noon (6:00pm tomorrow) and again by 10pm, call and if one of us doesn’t respond within the hour inform Peter and the Sheriff first, then the others if need be.>

<Will do> Isaac replied.

<Okay. By the way, the scarf is done. It’s on the couch upstairs.>

<You’re welcome. winky face, smirking face, 2 guys with a heart between them, eggplant, peach, halo face emoji.>

Goddamn sassy betas.

Derek managed to get them on the road heading out of Beacon Hills at exactly 1:57pm due to the sheer force of of his glare and grumpy eyebrows alone. He’d herded Stiles out of his house at 1:35 sharp, threw his crap next to his own duffel bag in the trunk of his car, and followed him to the loft. He shoved open the passenger door as soon as the Jeep was parked and locked and the teenager promptly jogged over, tripped on the door sill and half-fell into the seat. Derek silently shook his head at the clumsy human, waiting until he fastened his seat belt while pointedly ignoring him, then peeled out of there like a bat out of hell.

They were taking the Camaro because there was absolutely no goddamn way that Derek was going to trust Roscoe for more than 5 miles at a time and even that was pushing it these days. Maybe if he got Stiles a trip to the mechanic for his next birthday he would actually accept someone else getting it fixed for him. The guy was stubborn as a mule.

Isaac had asked to borrow it while they were away for some errands involving the carrying of large objects and Stiles had reluctantly agreed. The loft was closer both to his BCCC campus and the highway, so he was planning to leave Roscoe there anyway so that he could go straight to school if they were running late on the way back. The beta and the Spark might not be the best of friends and seemed to live for getting on each others nerves, but they had an understanding about the important things and Stiles actually trusted Isaac to be careful with his baby. The extra set of keys were already inside, kept in its designated place so that Stiles would never lose both of them (again.)

They made good time, only stopping once for around 20 minutes to pee, get gas, stretch their legs, and load up on snacks and caffeine. The cottage was close to the Upper Klamath Lake, which according to Stiles was “the largest body of fresh water in Oregon.” Upon arrival they immediately checked the perimeter of the cabin and then cleared the rooms before bringing their stuff inside. Stiles had only just recently begun to learn about his birthright, but he knew enough to feel for magical residue and said that he didn’t sense anything unusual so far.

Deaton was teaching him the basics, including how to create simple wards for warning and protection, which he quickly drew on the front door and on trees at 4 points around the property as Derek stood guard. Stiles would eventually need another mentor to truly develop and master his abilities, but he was already so proud and excited to be able to help the pack beyond whacking things with a baseball bat, being bait, and using Google-Fu. Or, in one memorable instance, annoying and confounding a trio of hobgoblins so much that they left the city.

The cabin-style cottage had a larger bedroom with a queen sized bed, a smaller bedroom that was set up as an office, and a modern kitchen with granite counters, a gas stove/oven, and an island with stools. There was an adjustable 4-6 person table in the dining area, a couple of closets, a mud room with a stacked washer & dryer set and a chest freezer, and a bathroom boasting a 2 person clawfoot tub, a shower with two rainfall shower heads, and a toilet with a bidet attachment (oooh, fancy!)

The living room had an oversized dark beige sectional couch, a coffee table with a few art books, a mid sized smart tv equipped with a blu-ray player and a few gaming consoles, and shelves with an assortment of novels, memoirs and biographies, board games, movies, and video games. Needless to say, they were set.

Surprisingly there were not one but two fireplaces as well. Across from the couch and below the mounted tv was a larger, remote controlled gas powered one for quick and efficient heating. The right side of the living room still had the smaller, original wood burning fireplace which would be safe for cooking and was able to provide that traditional ambience of crackling wood and campfire smells if so desired. Taking up much of the space between them was a large, tan plush rug that looked made for lying on.

Outside there was a front porch with a bench swing and around the back there were two picnic tables, a Traeger grill, and a hot tub. Derek was impressed and based on the grin plastered on the younger man’s face so was Stiles.

After settling in and seeing what was in the fridge, pantry, and chest freezer (all the things, apparently) they went out to investigate the trail towards the lake. Stiles brought a messenger bag with a few amplifying objects to help his spark with detection and protection, a couple books on fae creatures, and some binding elements such as iron, salt, mistletoe, and mountain ash. Derek made and packed 4 ham and cheese sandwiches in his backpack along with some trail mix, two insulated liter sized water bottles, a flashlight, digging tools, and…the scarf. It was a beautiful piece of work, the colors rich and complimentary and so fitting for his mate packmate.

Derek had actually worn it to bed last night and then around the loft this morning while getting ready until it was time to get Stiles. He’d made absolutely sure that Isaac had already left for the day before leaving his room because he’d have never heard the end of it if the beta had seen him with it. He could just imagine the embarrassing pictures with even worse captions on Instagram.

Now the plan was to wait until it got cooler in the evening to give it to Stiles and then the human would be wrapped in his scent. For his safety of course. To make sure any shifters or other supernatural beings knew that he was under the protection of an Alpha wolf. Anything else, like the surely intoxicating blending of scents was just a bonus. Hurry up and go down, sun!

They began by walking together in what was more or less a widening spiral that kept the trail in the center, but circled out to either side through the trees. Derek tried to pick up any scents, sounds, or movements while Stiles reached out with his magic, occasionally focusing so much that he misstepped, tripped or nearly ran into one obstacle or another while shuffling through the fallen leaves.

After the third time he tugged the far-eyed Spark around a log he joked that Stiles should learn to levitate, but then he’d just run into branches instead.

When they got down by the lake Stiles paused to watch the sun slide below the horizon and Derek figured it was a good a time as any. He opened the backpack and pulled out their water bottles, unable to resist honing in on the motion of the human’s throat as he swallowed in the pink-orange light. He wanted so badly to rest his fingertips there, brush them over that unmarked skin.

Right.

He took a few swigs from his own bottle and set it down, reaching back into the bag and pulling out the carefully folded scarf.

“Oh hey, this is for you,” Derek said as if he just now remembered that he had it.

Stiles sputtered a bit as he turned in surprise, looking down to where he was being nudged with the bundle of fabric. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, closing and setting down the container before reaching for the scarf.

“For me?” he asked curiously, unfurling it and running his fingers over the pattern.

“Yeah.”

There were at least a half a dozen questions in Stiles’ eyes when he lifted his head again, but instead of voicing them he just made a little humming noise and looked it over again, his scent going warm and sweet with happiness.

“Thanks, man” he said softly.

Derek ducked his head. “You’re welcome.”

Stiles lowered his hood and wound the colorful wool around himself, securing it with a loose knot. Derek coughed to hide the rumble starting in his chest when his scent on the scarf was starting to blend with Stiles’, seeping into into his skin. He drank some more water and got himself together, continuing to be immensely pleased. Mission accomplished.

They stayed out for a few hours after dark thanks to a ring that gave Stiles enhanced night vision, making sure to get back into reliable cell range by 10:00pm to make contact with Issac. There were only a few dead zones or spots with just one bar of service thankfully and they’d checked every 15 minutes or so to give them an idea of how far and how long it’d take to get out of them. It was just after 11:00pm by the time they got back to the cabin, around 5 hours of looking for signs of supernatural activity with nothing out of the ordinary so far.

It’d been a long day for both of them and the yawn Stiles let out was contagious. It wasn’t time to turn in yet though, the miles of hiking burning through the sandwiches and trail mix from a few hours ago.

Stiles had shown interest in the fireplaces earlier, so Derek figured he’d turn on the gas one for a bit to warm up the place while he got the other one going for snacks. He saw the Spark jump out of the corner of his eye when the flames suddenly foomfed to life and he grinned to himself, turning the fan on medium. Going over to the stack of wood near the traditional one, he began arranging hunks of it interspersed with kindling and then started it with a wand lighter. It wasn’t long before it spread, the wood charring and crackling, and he could feel Stiles’ eyes on his back.

When he turned the Spark was watching him with a curious and concerned expression, his head slightly tilted like a wolf. Derek cleared his throat.

“For a long time I couldn’t…but I…it’s not the same.”

This was clean burning oak and birch, the stuff of happy outdoorsy memories, not stained wood mixed with the scent of burnt plastic and fabric, scorched metal and chemicals. He shrugged.

“It smells different. We…we used to go camping or have bonfires at celebrations…”

A warm hand rested on his shoulder and he realized that his own were clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, inhaling the unique and comforting scent of Stiles and met his eyes. “I didn’t want that to be yet another thing ruined so I worked on it,” Derek whispered. “It’s okay now.”

Stiles squeezed where he was holding and leaned in for a quick side hug before nodding and heading into the kitchen. Derek pressed the off button on the remote.

They cooked bratwurst and then marshmallows over the fire for s’mores, teasing each other when one of Stiles’ melted right off the roasting fork and then Derek managed to turn a poofy white confection into charcoal. They washed it down with hard apple cider and then read for a while taking over opposite sides of the sectional in companionable silence, him with an old Popular Mechanics magazine from the bookshelf and Stiles with one of his quote unquote “Spark Notes.”

It was around 1:00am when sleep crept up on them again, Derek the one to start yawning this time. He got up and stretched, talking their dishes and utensils to the sink while Stiles put out the fire. (“It’s been a while, but I’ve gone camping too,” he retorted when Derek looked at him skeptically.)

They did a last brief check outside around the cabin — finding nothing of note again — and then came back to get ready for bed.

Oh right, bed. As in singular.

There’d been a handful of times over the years when the two of them ended up sleeping — or more accurately, at least one of them ended up passing out — together, but it had always been unintentional and there’d usually been other people around as well. Not just…getting into bed together. He could feel himself blush at the thought, but thankfully Stiles was unaware in the bathroom. By the time he came out all minty fresh Derek was leaning casually against the doorframe.

“You go ahead and take the bed, I’ll sleep out here,” he said, grabbing his night clothes and toiletries to take his turn bathroom. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Nope, I’ll take the couch. You drove and I can sleep anywhere as long as I have my pillow.” The Spark grabbed the aforementioned fluffy object from on top of his stuff and hugged it to himself in a way that wasn’t at all adorable, no siree. “Besides this thing is pretty comfy,” he added, nudging an arm of sectional with his knee and then launching himself to flop over it and onto the cushions like a salmon leaping upstream.

Derek snorted and shook his head, opening his mouth to argue further. “I said I—“

“Nope, too late,” the grinning human cut in. “I’ve physically claimed this epic beigeness and anyway, I’m pretty sure the Alpha is supposed to get the nicest digs and all that.”

And there went his brain short circuiting again at Stiles saying the words “physically claimed” and “Alpha” in the same sentence, especially the latter in that joking, but somewhat suggestive tone. His closed his mouth and whirled around, muttering “Fine” over his shoulder as he made a hasty retreat. The sound of laughter trailed after him.

If he took a longer shower than intended, well, he could use some relaxation, okay? And the fan was still on, so between that and the strong, heavenly spray he wasn’t too concerned about certain sounds being overheard by weak human ears.

Stiles was fast asleep by the time he finished up and Derek paused to watch him fondly, finding himself jealous of the pillow under his head and the throw cushion clutched in his arms. Sinking onto the thick mattress and pulling up the green sheet and blanket he couldn’t say if he was more relieved or disappointed that Stiles didn’t suggest sharing.

Derek woke up first, passing by the couch and having to hold back laughter so as to not wake up the oddly sprawled human. That could not possibly be comfortable and yet Stiles remained fast asleep with one leg extended up a back cushion and the other bent beneath it. He had an arm dangling off the side, hand resting on the floor, and the other forearm thrown diagonally across the right side of his head, somewhat squashing his face between it and his bicep. This was causing him to snore lightly, mouth open with a hint of drool on his cheek.

Derek quietly heated water, removing the lid off of the kettle before it could start to make noise. He choose some loose leaf spiced orange tea to put in the infuser. It’d been quite some time since he last made tea this way, having only some bags of mint, ginger lemon, and Earl Grey at home which he usually just tossed in a mug and put in the microwave when he wasn’t making coffee. He was looking forward to trying the selection of beans too, but grinding them would be quite loud so he would wait until Stiles got up.

Mug in hand Derek slipped outside to check the warded perimeter and again found nothing out of place. There was one moment where he'd stilled when a sudden gust of cool wind sent leaves swirling wildly around him, but it was just the capricious fall weather. Back inside, he read a naturalist’s autobiography from one of the bookshelves for an hour or so and then started making breakfast.

After slicing some peaches he began preparing a pot of old fashioned oatmeal with water and a pinch of salt. While that was cooking he put bacon on to fry and it wasn’t long before he heard the telltale signs of a semi-conscious Stiles. Smiling, he added milk, brown sugar, maple syrup, and sliced almonds to the oatmeal and covered it, leaving it on warm.

By the time the groggy Spark managed to get himself upright, stumbled to the bathroom, and then came grumbling into the kitchen a mug of French press coffee was on the counter waiting for his grabby hands.

“Thanks,” he said after a couple sips with a blissful expression on his squinty face.

“You’re welcome. Food is ready if you want some.”

Stiles shot him an incredulous look as if he were crazy to suggest he might not. Derek snorted and took it as a compliment.

He’d only recently gotten back into cooking after years of mostly subsisting on noodles, sandwiches, and protein shakes. It had just seemed pointless for a while, a waste of time when he didn’t care what the source of calories were that fueled him as long as he could function. Why bother when the world was ashes in his mouth? When he felt he didn’t deserve those comforts or found it too painful to be reminded of better times, the memories that certain smells and tastes would conjure.

But he was trying to hold onto the good that was and to make new memories. Cooking for his pack made him feel useful in a tangible way. Providing like an Alpha should. Not only training and discipline, but comfort and nourishment too. And it was something he simply enjoyed. Trying different recipes, tweaking and perfecting old ones. It calmed him.

Derek chopped half of the bacon strips to put on top of their bowls of oatmeal, sweet and salty-savory just like his paternal grandmother used to make it. The rest he placed on a plate with peaches and set between them.

Once the coffee kicked in Stiles was animated again, thinking up ways to entice or summon the supernatural creature, assuming it was still around. They planned to go out on another hike after taking it easy for an hour or so. Neither of them sensed any malevolent entities then, so they decided to split up a bit to cover more ground while remaining in earshot just in case. He reminded Stiles to watch where he was going when the teen headed off into the forest, Derek going down to walk parallel on the lakeshore.

When Stiles cried out in pain Derek’s heart leapt into his throat. Was there something out here after all and did it just attack his mate? He ran toward the sound as fast as he could, claws and fangs out and ready to tear into any hostile creature who dared to hurt the emissary-in-training. They hadn’t gone far from each other so less than a minute later he came skidding to a halt in front of the younger man who was currently half sitting and half sprawled on the ground, wincing and holding his right leg out straight, resting it on his left leg.

Derek looked all around and honed in on his hearing and sense of smell for signs of another presence even as he started talking to Stiles, who was attempting to get up.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

The human groaned and cursed before settling back and sighing heavily.

“Just me and my clumsiness. I tripped on a root and and then caught myself by stepping in a gopher hole or something. Landed wrong. I think it’s sprained, not broken, but it still hurts like a bitch.”

Derek stopped scanning for threats and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Stiles might be the worse for wear, but he was okay. Would be okay. He let his beta shift melt away and closed his still red eyes.

“Der? Hey, what’s wrong? You’re, um, shaking dude…”

What? He looked down at himself and he was indeed trembling, especially his hands. Derek swallowed.

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” he grumped quietly for old time’s sake. He crouched down and looked Stiles over, pausing to take in the scarf around his neck and the scent of them, and wondered if he was really going to do this.

If not now, then when? If something terrible had happened what would you regret more? Bright brown eyes watched him curiously, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“I thought something had happened to you. That you were hurt...“ Stiles looked down at his now impressively swollen ankle and then back at him, raising an eyebrow. Derek smirked and huffed, the moment of levity releasing some of his tension.

“That you had been attacked, he clarified.” Stiles nodded, but still appeared a bit puzzled. Here goes.

“And I…Stiles, if anything happened to you…I couldn’t bear it.”

The scents of happiness and surprise overtook the bitterness of pain and the nineteen year old smiled at him affectionately.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Don’t worry, you won’t have to learn how to navigate web forums or need to get your own subscription to JSTOR or anything—“

“No, that’s not…” Derek growled in frustration. He had been so adamant about not showing his feelings — and promising a world of hurt to any of the young wolves who figured it out should they let it spill — that Stiles truly had no idea what he thought of him. That and the human’s self-esteem issues, which he tried to hide behind sarcasm and self-deprecating laughter that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Fuck it. Derek reached out and placed a palm against Stiles’ jaw and cheek. The younger man inhaled sharply through his nose and stilled.

“If anything happened to you, specifically, I couldn’t bear it. You’re very important to me, Stiles. And I’m sorry for not making that clear.”

Stiles licked his lips nervously, eyes searching Derek’s face.

“Uh, do you mean because I’m your packmate or…?”

“Or.”

There was a soft sound that was surprise and disbelief and longing all at once. Derek wanted to hear all of Stiles’ noises. He ran his thumb across the soft skin and was rewarded with a whimper as the teen leaned into his hand. Derek then leaned toward him.

Their first kiss was was slow and sweet, reassuring and exploratory. They rested their foreheads together breathing each others air.

“Wow,” Stiles whispered.

“Mmhmm,” he agreed.

Then the human went to adjust his position and hissed in pain. Oh right.

“Let’s get you back,” Derek said, rising to his feet and then carefully helping Stiles up without putting weight on his injured ankle. The stubborn youth tried awkwardly hopping while braced against him, but after a couple minutes of the very slow going, obviously tiring, and all-around ridiculous movement Derek had enough and swooped a squawking Stiles up into a bridal carry.

“Hey, I could make it just fine on—!”

He shot the Stiles a flat look and he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away with flushing cheeks. Derek’s nostrils flared as musky-sweet arousal soon overtook the sour-salt burn of embarrassment. The action wasn’t missed and those cheeks grew redder still as did the strength of both scents and he grinned, hefting him higher and more firmly against his body.

Derek already knew that Stiles liked it when he manhandled him. He had both tried to avoid it as much as possible and did so deliberately at different points in times, which now that he thought of it was kind of an asshole thing to do. The thing was that he knew the human was attracted to him, but he hadn’t realized there were serious feelings on his end too. Derek sighed. A mess.

A while later he could feel Stiles staring at him and he turned to look at him inquisitively.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just wondering if I actually hit my head when I fell and this is all just a trauma-induced hallucination.” Derek laughed and brought his lips to Stiles’. “Hmm, still not sure, better try that again.” A few minutes went by in silence before he continued. “But seriously, I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, you used to hate me and now—“

“I never hated you,” Derek interrupted.

“Not even when I helped get you arrested?”

“Not even then. Frustrated and annoyed by you, definitely. Angry at, for sure. But hate you? Never. You’re my—“ he cut off when he realized what he was about to say. Despite his truly extraordinary levels of denial at the time he knew when they first met that the trespassing teenager was his mate. It was surely too early to talk about all that, though. He didn’t want to freak out the human, who was of course now observing him with a sharpened gaze.

“I’m your what?”

“My soon-to-be emissary who should really pay more attention to where he’s going in the future,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. Stiles narrowed his eyes. Derek knew better than to expect him to drop the matter, but hopefully some deflecting would buy him time. “Oh, and what was it that you called me once? ‘Issues City’?”

Stiles cringed in his arms.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Der. I didn’t mean anything by—“

“I know,” he replied, grinning and rolling his eyes. “And, it’s not like you were wrong.”

Stiles giggled. “True. And obviously, I’m right there myself in the yurt next to yours.”

“Why would we be living in yurts? Those are for camping and stuff or, you know, actual nomadic people. Not cities.”

“I dunno dude, cuz they're cool and it’s fun to say? Step out of your box. Use your imagination. Live a little—”

“In our imaginary city,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, Derek! My yurt...” Stiles paused, the tip of his tongue adorably poking out the side of his mouth as he thought. “Has a moat full of Baja Blast and is guarded by an army of angry quokkas.”

“Well my yurt is—“

He was suddenly holding an armful of convulsively laughing teenager and he raised his eyebrows, shaking his head when it subsided only after a whined “Oww.” A few moments later Stiles was mocking him, repeating “my yurt” with an exaggerated seriousness of voice and facial expressions, setting himself off again with the same results.

“Are you done?” Derek asked, trying to keep a straight face.

The impish youth nodded, attempting to portray the very picture of innocence.

“My…” Stiles leaned ever so slightly forward and Derek narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Collapsableportablecirculardwelling is—”

This time they both dissolved into laughter, Derek sliding his hand further down to brace the injured leg so it wouldn’t be jostled too much.

When they returned Stiles removed his shoes, hoodie, and the scarf, uncharacteristically careful with the latter by taking a moment to hang it over a chair instead of just tossing it aside. He then dug around in his bag and pulled out a bottle wrapped in a runed token with relief.

“I should’ve brought this when we went out in case of—“

“You?”

He chuckled as Stiles glared at him. Just because he finally made his feelings (well, some of them) known didn’t mean he was going to stop giving the younger man shit.

The Spark swallowed a dropper full of the purple liquid and Derek couldn’t help watching the movement of his Adam’s apple on the once more uncovered throat. He forced himself to stop staring and listened to Stiles explain how it sped up the healing of at least non-severe injuries to near werewolf levels. Apparently it also used a good deal of energy because shortly after he was fast asleep on the couch and once again in an awkward position. Derek shook his head fondly and gently straightened out his neck and arranged his limbs so that he wouldn’t wake up so cricked that he’d have to take the purple stuff again.

He busied himself going through the impressively stocked fridge, freezer, and pantry again and figured out what he wanted to make for dinner. For Stiles. Filling, nutritious, comforting and seasonal foods that also served to show what he could make, how he could provide, if he made the effort.

Brown stewed turkey wings cooked low and slow, which he learned from his mother who was herself taught by a Jamaican friend in college. He roasted butternut squash and sweet potato, the later of which he used to make a creamy soup with caramelized red onion, garlic, sage, and an intriguing smelling curry blend he found called rogan josh, but held off on the blending for now. Then came the baking: a simple, crusty loaf of bread and ginger chocolate chip cookies.

There were mulling spices and red wine so he heated some on the stove and lightly sweetened it with honey. For a cold beverage he put some of the delicious fresh pressed honeycrisp apple juice into a carafe with optional bourbon and cardamom bitters on the side. By the time he was preparing a spinach salad with kale, walnuts, and apple with an orange vinaigrette Sleeping Beauty was beginning to stir from his slumber.

“Mmm, something smells amazing," Stiles mumbled sleepily before sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. Derek was instantly drawn to the strip of belly revealed when his shirt rode up and he swallowed. When he looked up Stiles was watching him, head slightly tilted and a rosiness to his cheeks.

"Um, d-dinner's ready," he stammered, turning abruptly to start dishing things up as the scents of amusement and low grade arousal wafted over to him.

This evening was cooler than the last so they ate snuggled up in blankets sitting in front of the remote controlled fireplace on the thick, fluffy rug. It was indeed even more comfortable than it looked. Stiles had the scarf on again and Derek couldn't help glancing over repeatedly, pleased to see his mate wearing his gift, smelling more like his, and enjoying the meal he prepared for him.

"God Derek, you need to keep cooking like this when we get back. At least sometimes. I'm begging you," Stiles said, scraping the remaining bits together and moaning obscenely as he ate the last bite.

Derek felt his eyes flash red and he could just make out Stiles' pupils dilating in the flickering glow of the firelight. The human took a shaky breath and scooted over to him, gaze falling to his mouth and up again. Derek turned further and wrapped his arms around him, drawing Stiles close and sinking his face against that them scented throat, inhaling deeply.

A hand grasped the back of his head and then legs were scrambling as Stiles awkwardly climbed into his lap to straddle him, rubbing against him and whispering, “Please.”

Derek lifted his head and caught those soft, parted lips that he’d dreamt of for so long, pressing against them and then sucking the lower before slipping his tongue inside. Stiles made a desperate, needy sound and he smiled, deepening the kiss.

He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the floor to set Stiles down below him and laid between his legs, rutting against him while continuing to his plunder his mouth.

“Off,” Stiles gasped when they came up for air, tugging at his shirt. Derek rose up to obey, pulling it off with a single motion and not above flexing when the younger man paused to stare. Smiling, he grasped a hesitant hand and brought it to his chest to assure Stiles that he was allowed to feel. The other soon joined and slender fingers roamed over him in tandem and separately in turns, up to his shoulders and upper arms and along his sides then across his twitching abdomen.

“You’re so gorgeous, Derek,” Stiles said quietly.

He couldn’t help blushing. Many people found him attractive, generally to his chagrin, but no one else ever sounded like that. Like he was precious and beautiful, not just an object to be imposed on.

After another minute or so of exploring, the human started wiggling to remove his own clothes and Derek splayed a hand on his half-bared belly.

“Let me,” he said huskily. Stiles nodded and sank back against the rug, raising his arms above his head.

Derek unwrapped his mate like the gift that he was, starting with unwinding the scarf. He put it aside, his other palm running over that pale column possessively, and then came the shirt, pushed up and off to expose lean muscle. Unable to resist anymore he dove to taste and mark at last, latching onto Stiles’ throat to nibble and suck from one side to the other.

Working his way down over Stiles’ left clavicle, Derek pressed an ear directly over his rapidly beating heart for several moments before proceeding to mouth at a raised nipple, earning a light gasp. Tweaking the other between his fingertips, he then switched to soothe it with his tongue.

When he moved toward his belly button, scruff brushing lightly against the skin, Stiles jolted up part way and giggled. Derek joined in the laughter and seeing those ever moving hands fly up to where he was ticklish gave him an idea. Picking up the scarf and holding it taut between his upturned palms he looked down at the curious youth with a hint of red in his stare.

“Can I?”

Stiles dropped his gaze to the length of fabric, swallowing as understanding bloomed in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

He bound his mate’s wrists together with one end and then looped the middle twice around a leg of the coffee table before wrapping the other end around the first and securing it with a snug knot. The ties were loose enough to not damage the material and they could be worked out of with a bit of effort, but it would serve as a reminder and stay any errant movements.

Slowly, he divested Stiles of his pants, his heart racing when Derek bent down to nuzzle at the bulge in his red boxer briefs and breathed in his deepening arousal before pulling those off as well.

“Beautiful,” Derek said, leaning back to survey the enthralling sight before him. The resultant all over blush made him even more lovely.

He nudged strong yet supple thighs further apart and made himself comfortable between them, grasping Stiles’ cock in his left hand as he reached to fondle his balls with the right and took one into his mouth. Palming the underside of his thighs, Derek then pushed up to expose his prize, lapping over his mate’s pretty hole.

Spurred on by breathy expletives, he delved and teased until the human was a writhing, whimpering mess, easing off and squeezing at the base of his cock when Stiles got close. Derek set a knee over his shoulder and licked up and around the shaft, finally engulfing the head and sinking down down down and up again, hollowing his cheeks. He popped off momentarily to let saliva flow into Stiles’ cleft, coating his thumb and circling it over the rim as he got back to work and met dazed whisky colored eyes.

When Stiles approached his peak again Derek pressed the thick digit through his tight entrance, groaning at the feel of him as he found and rubbed against his prostate. Moments later Stiles was crying out and coming down his throat and he was determined not to lose a single drop. Derek didn’t release him until he was sure he’d swallowed it all, pulling off the spent member and licking the tip for good measure, still continuing to finger the trembling Spark.

“Lube…my bag,” Stiles said, panting.

Derek withdrew and got up, making a stop to the bathroom and returning with some damp cloths before retrieving the bottle from the duffle and grabbing a throw cushion from the couch.

“I wasn’t being…presumptuous,” Stiles suddenly blurted, trying to emphasize with his hands before remembering he was restrained. “I use it, you know, myself when—“

“Stiles, relax. I’m very glad you brought some.” He set the stuff down on the coffee table. “Besides, apparently you would’ve been right to be.” Derek smirked as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them.

“God, I knew it. Of course you go commando,” Stiles whined, eyes wide while taking him in.

He flashed a predatory grin.

“Only sometimes, but I’ll keep your approval in mind.”

Derek took hold of his rock hard erection and stroked himself lazily, enjoying the way Stiles watched him, biting that plumped lower lip as he advanced toward him. He wanted to feel them wrapped around his cock so he set himself over the youth and got down to straddle his chest. Stiles gasped and licked his lips and Derek gently gripped his face, running a thumb over his cheek.

“Okay?” he asked.

Stiles nodded enthusiastically and croaked, “Yeah.”

He opened his mouth and Derek leaned forward, running the tip over those cupid’s bow lips and sighing in pleasure as he finally entered that welcoming wet heat. Stiles began to bob and suck as well as he could in that position as Derek met his eyes, caressing the side of his face with the back of his right hand.

How did he ever get so goddamn lucky?

Truth be told, he assumed that Stiles would’ve been long gone by now and he hadn't planned to do — to say — anything to hold him back, but the stubborn young man stayed and now here they were and if he wasn't literally being blown this very instant he wouldn't have believed. Hell, it still felt like a dream.

He blinked as he realized that encompassing warmth had pulled away, tongue flicking over him playfully instead, and he refocused to see his mate's amused expression.

"You alright there, big guy?"

"Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, embarrassed by his distraction and hoping Stiles didn’t think he’d been anything less than wonderful. “I just…I can't believe I get to have you. I never expect—”

“Well, get used to it, Alpha,” the mischievous human interjected, delighting his wolf and drawing out a possessive rumble. “Now come down here and kiss me and then fuck my face.”

Derek’s jaw fell open even as Stiles flushed at his own brazen command yet refused to look away. He hurried to comply, tasting traces of himself as their mouths slotted together, soft and slow and deep. When they came up for air Derek got back into position, eyes dark with desire, but hesitant.

“Go ahead, Der,” Stiles said, seductively licking his lips. “I want you to and I know you want to, don’t even front. Plus, it’ll give my neck a break,” he added, smirking before opening up wide.

Derek chuckled and slide a hand through Stiles’ growing hair and around to the back, holding him in place as he shifted forward and leaned on his other hand as he fed his cock to the eager Spark. His hips started jerking as soon as those lips stretched tight around him and he groaned as he began to thrust in earnest, finding a rhythm. He was wasn’t sure how experienced the younger man was so he did his best to stop shy of choking him.

The signs of his mate’s enjoyment at being used so, the half-lidded gaze and the pleasant vibrations from his muffled moans, only served to bring Derek closer to the edge. As amazing as it would be to come in that lovely mouth though, he wanted to fuck Stiles even more, so he would save that for another time. Many many other times if he had his way.

Stiles pouted when he withdrew and moved back, but began jiggling a foot in anticipation once he reached for the lube. Derek pressed two slippery fingers inside where his tongue and thumb had been not long before, pumping and twisting and scissoring. He slipped in a third, growling at the sight of Stiles rocking onto him, his cock erect and leaking once more.

With apologies Derek brought his hand away to slick himself up, promising his mate that he was about to give him what he needed. He settled over Stiles and between his spread legs, leaning down for a sloppy kiss before drawing back enough to push his knees up. When Derek had him bent almost in half he pressed the tip of his cock against the teen’s fluttering hole and waited for him to exhale.

There was a moment of resistance before the head popped through that tight ring and then he was plunging slow and steady into Stiles’ hot channel. Derek put a palm to his hip to drain his discomfort and he felt the younger man relax as he bottomed out. Holding still, he ignored the urge to thrust fast and hard so that his mate could get used to him.

When Stiles indicated that he was ready Derek started off with short, gentle strokes that gradually increased in intensity, dragging over that special bundle of nerves and making the Spark close his eyes in pleasure. Capturing those parted lips, he used his tongue in time with the snap of his hips, wanting to be inside his mate in every way possible.

Derek broke the kiss and reached above them to tug open the knot and loosen the loops of the scarf so that Stiles could slip free. He’d greatly enjoyed their evening playing with it — the trust, vulnerability, and submission — but now he needed something more, needed to feel his mate’s touch.

As soon as the teen had stretched and shaken out his arms they were wrapped around his waist and upper back, the hand of the latter sliding up to burrow in his hair as Stiles rocked up to meet every thrust and chanted his name. Derek held him close, their movements becoming a slow, deep fully body grind as they resumed kissing like they could only breathe the other’s air. Pressed flush together until he didn’t know where he ended and Stiles began, their scents no longer just their own, but imbued with them.

Stiles’ orgasm took them both by surprise, the human crying out and digging blunt fingernails into his shoulders as liquid pulsed between them and he clenched rhythmically around Derek’s cock, taking him over the edge as well. He buried his face in the cast off blankets to muffle his roar as he filled Stiles with his essence, already longing to do it again when they separated at last and he floated euphoric between wakefulness and sleep.

“So, I’m your mate, huh?”

Derek’s eyes flew open some indeterminate amount of time later to find Stiles watching him with a wry smile.

“C’mon dude, you can’t be surprised I figured it out. ‘I can’t hate you, you’re my dot dot dot,’” the human mimicked, giving him a pointed look. “I’m only mad I didn’t see it earlier. I chalked up all the lurking, sorry, ‘checking in’ by my house to me being a vulnerable human and stuff.” Stiles snorted at his stunned expression.

“I have wards, duh. And I made them so that I basically get a daily proximity report for non-hostile activity around the house just in case there’s still something I should know about,” he explained, shrugging. Derek cringed and Stiles patted him on the shoulder, squeezing before continuing. “Or maybe it was something you did with all your packmates, I never asked.”

There was a hint of something — anxiety? insecurity? — that led him to think that the Spark hadn’t wanted to know for sure that it was the same with everyone. Or to learn that he was being treated differently, but not for reasons he wanted. So he just didn’t in order to be able to maybe imagine sometimes…

Derek understood perfectly, his heart aching for his mate who’d apparently been doing his own dance of pining and avoidance. How very fitting and silly of them.

“But add in the scarf,” Stiles continued — reaching across him to grab it and drape it over himself, fingers tracing its patterns lovingly — “and the sniffing and looks and providing since we’ve been here and well, I finally put 2 and 2 together. I might be fairly oblivious, but you, Mr. Wolf, are not subtle.”

Derek barked a laugh and grinned, unable to be annoyed at his pushy instinctual side when this was the outcome.

“Yes, you’re my clever, ridiculous mate.”

“Sweet.”

The subsequent reflective silence lasted approximately 37 seconds.

“Sooo…do you have a knot?”

Derek groaned and flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. He tried not to giggle when Stiles began poking him in the shoulder, complaining that he had a right to know about things which may or may not make an appearance in his ass. Sighing, he turned back over.

“After the mating is complete, apparently.”

“Seems pretty complete to me,” Stiles joked, wagging his eyebrows. Derek rolled his eyes.

“I suppose it’s time to borrow those books from Peter for you. The short version is, well, there has to be certain…intentions and behaviors and then a mating bite with my wolf teeth if—if you decide you want it someday and—“

“When,” Stiles emphasized, matter-of-factly.

“When,” he repeated with a smile, pulling his mate close and nuzzling him to revel in their combined scents.

The conversation continued, astute inquiries and humorous asides becoming intermittent murmurs until Stiles drifted off and he soon followed, lulled by the sound of his mate’s breathing.

Unsurprisingly, Derek woke first again and laid there for a good 15-20 minutes just watching Stiles sleep. Taking in the sight of him so soft and disheveled, beautiful and all his. His mate. When the desire to touch and taste won out over his contentment to observe, he made his way under the blanket haphazardly covering the human to part his thighs just enough to suckle at his dormant cock.

He’d mentioned last night how intense his cravings for his mate would be, especially this first month, now that they’d slept together. Stiles had grinned smugly and given him permission to have his way with him unless he stated otherwise.

Derek savored the evidence of arousal growing on his tongue and began to work slowly up and down the hardening shaft, coaxing the human back into consciousness.

“Well, hello there,” Stiles mumbled, petting his head with a smile in his voice.

In response, Derek redoubled his efforts and those slender fingers curled, tugging at his hair, and he moaned in approval. He encouraged Stiles to thrust upward in time with his movements, playing with his balls and then pressing behind them until he was rewarded with cries of pleasure and swallowed down his warm release.

There was still no sign of any supernatural activity later that morning, fae or otherwise, as they reported again to Isaac. Whatever mystery being (or human prankster) had been there before had seemingly moved on, but they figured they might as well enjoy one more lazy day and cozy night alone together. Stiles fired up the grill that evening and it was Derek’s turn to be provided for and impressed by his mate’s cooking. They had filet mignon kebabs with zucchini and red onion accompanied by salted foil wrapped baked potatoes served with sour cream, chives, and smoked paprika.

After one last walk around the property and down to the lake and back Derek got the whirlpool going and they blissed out soaking in the hot, turbulent water. The noises Stiles let out as the tension in his body dissipated, sliding down in the seat until his head was thrown back against the edge and his throat on full display, had Derek promptly wedged between his legs, sucking new bruises between yesterday’s blooms and grinding against him.

He wasn’t about to attempt penetration in the water, but had another tantalizing idea in mind. Derek hauled Stiles up and turned him around before carefully placing him down with his torso on the surrounding deck and his legs and and ass hanging over the side. All but ripping off his trunks, Derek knelt back on the seat in the hot tub and spread his cheeks, eating him out with abandon until Stiles climaxed untouched with a guttural moan that he vowed to wring from him again.

Then he got out and carried his mate inside over his shoulder, snagging the bottle of lube from the living room and heading to christen the bedroom. Derek set the loose limbed teen onto the mattress on his belly and propped his hips up with a pillow. Impatiently, he slicked himself up and tested Stiles’ still ready hole with a couple of fingers before mounting him and sheathing his cock in a single motion.

Derek pressed against his back and pinned him down, thrusting in long, deep strokes that made the teen gasp, increasing in speed until they grew erratic. His balls drew up and he howled as he planted his seed deep inside Stiles’ pliant body, remaining there until the human began to squirm. When he finally pulled away he dropped down beside his fuck drunk mate and peppered his smiling face with kisses.

Stiles swatted his ass playfully and then grabbed hold of a cheek as they snuggled.

“Next time you can fuck me if you want,” he whispered, laughing at the surprised and hungry look on the teen’s face.

They got up shortly before dawn and packed the last of their things, only bothering with a cursory shower because most of the time they had to spare was spent with Stiles’ kneeling on some extra towels in the stall with Derek’s cock in his insatiable mouth.

Miraculously, they managed to leave at a quarter to 8:00 so Stiles could get back for his noon class barring any lengthy unexpected events. They passed the time with a combination of radio roulette, talking about whatever came to mind, and comfortable silence as Stiles read or gazed out the window and Derek had his thoughts, which were actually pleasant for once. How could they not be with his mate by his side?

To think that going on this random and apparently unnecessary, but strangely amazing trip had changed so much for the both of them. It couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been planned.

He glanced over and Stiles was idly playing with the end of his scarf with his right hand and Derek took his left, their fingers interlocking seamlessly like the red and amber yarn. It felt like they’d been doing this for ages. As if they belonged there, bound together.

They did.

Isaac:

Recently returned from his morning English class, Isaac was getting a jump on the reading assignment when he heard the Camaro pull up outside.

He thew down the paperback and hurried over to the window to peer outside through a gap in the curtains. Derek and Stiles — who was wearing the scarf, yes! — were talking and standing rather close. He crossed his fingers.

Moments later Derek took both of Stiles’ hands in his own and the human laughed, leaning in for a kiss. Isaac pumped his fist.

“Hallelujah,” he whispered, turning away and picking up his phone feeling incredibly smug.

<They’re back. It worked.>

<Thank fuck> replied Z-ter. <If I had to listen to one more longing sigh I would’ve gone and gotten myself killed a second time.>

Isaac snickered. <Dramatic much? But now we’re probably gonna have to put up with the loft smelling like a whorehouse.>

<Lmao.>

<Oh, fuck you.>

<Sorry, this is Peter, not Scott or Allison.>

Blushing fiercely and mouth hanging open, he tried to think of a response, but the elder beta continued on like he didn’t just casually wreck him.

<I’m glad it was successful. Not that I had much doubt, it was my plan after all.>

Isaac huffed. <*Our* plan.>

Sure their resident zombie wolf had the associate with a decked out cabin who owed him a favor, but the idea to send them off somewhere together after Derek asked for the scarf — which he then beautifully made, thank you very much — had been his.

<Tomayto, tomahto.>

He sent a middle finger emoji.

The Jeep struggled to life out front and Derek walked in shortly after with a big, stupid grin on his face. Isaac just looked at him and shook his head though he was secretly happy for his Alpha. God knew he deserved some joy in his life, even if it was with Stiles of all people. He only hoped that he didn’t have to see or hear any activities as well. Isaac would bet anything that Stiles was a screamer.

Later that afternoon he received a message from the loud mouth himself.

<Lol, fair. Hey, do you think you could knit me a beanie sometime? That scarf you made is pretty awesome, btw.>

Isaac sighed heavily. Of course.

<Hmm…for a price.>

<Uhhh…okaaay…>

<Deal. Now let me guess…gray with green. Perhaps with some blue and gold accents?>

<I’m psychic.>

Isaac rolled his eyes as he set the phone back on the side table. “Idiots, the both of them,” he muttered.

Still he couldn’t help smiling as he began looking through his supplies.

#sterek #sterek fanfic #stiles stilinski fanart #wip big bang #sterek & stuff events #equiknots #equiknots apple #equiknots between #equiknots falling leaves #equiknots flame #equiknots knot #equiknots song #equiknots travel #equiknots trisk #trisk

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

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I was reading a story recently where Stiles and the Sheriff were talking about the things that keep happening around them and the Sheriff said something like Stiles talks and acts like veteran soldiers do and after thinking about it that analogy does fit his character so well. It also made me really want to read more stories to do with that idea so I was wondering if you knew any?

Here's some where he has PTSD.

A Little Bit of Encourage-Mint by Mischief_x_Managed

(1/1 I 3,273 I Not Rated I No Pairing)

Stiles goes to a therapist who doesn't try to kill him. Surprisingly it works out well.

Dating and Mating Stiles Stilinski by 1Ginger1Keyboard

(4/? I 4,838 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek isn't used to feeling anything as deeply rooted as the feeling revolving around the hyper teen that goes by the name Stiles Stilinski. It takes Derek a while to wrestle these emotions into a form that allows him to decided he wants to pursue them. Yet, he's normally the one being chased, Derek has never had a problem getting peoples attention, he has a good body and charming looks, so he has to work out how to win the heart of the hyper teen. And to put it gently, Stiles has his very own courting ritual that is unlike any wolf or human ritual. It's just, neither of them knows that. To make it worse, the wolf under Derek's skin is growing impatient.

///What am I?/// by Nel_Lino

(1/? I 6,068 I Explicit I Scallison)

Stiles: Why haven't burnt alive? How could Derek die? Why do I care if he died? *** Scott: I need you to own me, now. Isaac: turn around, little whore. *** Danny: And if you want to try some more of that stuff we did, count on me. *** Young Derek: come here you little superhero! Mietek: I am not a superhero, I am special human!

Dreams Will Be Unified by SilentMagic

(4/? I 16,585 I Mature I Sterek)

When Stiles woke up for his eighteenth birthday, he was expecting a day of celebration and maybe a pack party. He was not expecting to wake up beneath the Nemeton, nor sprouting four furry paws in an alternate reality to learn what it means to be a Guardian. He really should clarify to the universe that he would like a break for at least a whole year before the next supernatural event comes his way.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 80,129 I Mature I Sterek)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

(10/10 I 70,382 I Mature I Sterek)

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." -----

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

I'm not real. Am I? by lady emebalia (emebalia)

(64/64 I 127,977 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek is not real. He's just a pretty form Stiles came up with. At least that's what Stiles keeps telling himself.

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Set at the end of season 2, Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

Alpha, Mage, Pack by Foxfire2018

(48/? I 480,285 I Explicit I Sterek)

Set at the end of Season 2. Stiles was kidnapped and tortured for hours. Yet no one came for him. Hurt and cast out of the pack by people he thought cared for him, what is he to do? He finds himself accompanied by someone he never expected and someone he is eternally grateful for. Derek feels betrayed and foolish for what he allowed to happen. Out of anger and hurt he forced a valuable member he really started to care for out of his pack. With the pack scattered and people hurt, what will come of them? Will they bond together again in time for the next big bad?

AND

@neverdust suggested this one!

Play It Again by metisket

(3/3 I 53,206 I Teen I Sterek)

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #ptsd #hurt/comfort #anon

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evanesdust · 9 months

Text

be everything that you need

written for @sterekfests week six prompt: luxe lakeside, @sterekweekly word prompt: ocean, @sterekbingo square: falling asleep on my shoulder, and @sterek-and-stuff-events mead moons prompt(s): claiming, full moon, and buck

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Summer Vacation, Alpha Derek Hale, Full Moon, Werewolf Courting, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Hunting and Providing, Erica Reyes is a Little Shit, Hale Pack - FREEFORM

[excerpt]

Stiles could feel Derek's gaze on him. It was like a physical touch, and when he looked over his shoulder, he smirked. Derek's eyes were dark, flared with heat. "See something you like?" Stiles asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. Derek pressed against his back, kissing his shoulder before turning Stiles in his arms. "You know I do."

"Holy shit," Stiles whispered as he climbed out of Derek's Camaro.

When Derek said his family owned a cabin by the lake, Stiles had stupidly imagined something more like the small, quaint wooden cabin he used to stay in whenever he went fishing with his dad as a kid. The kind with a low front porch and long overhanging roof—not the mansion in front of him.

It was all stone and wood and glass windows. High ceilings with diagonal harsh angles. An architect's dream.

After Derek grabbed their bags from the backseat, Stiles followed him up the steps to the wraparound porch and into the cabin. It was quiet, which was surprising since Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were already here, but they were probably down at the lake by now.

"Let me put the bags in our room and then I'll give you a tour," Derek said, leading him down the hall to the last door on the left.

Stiles was sure he looked ridiculous with his mouth hanging open as he took in the floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls that looked out toward the lake and into nature. The room was painted in warm colors, and they had a fireplace, as well as a private bathroom. In short, it was perfect.

Derek set their bags on the bed and turned to Stiles with a smile. "Did you want to change? I figure we can head down to the lake after the tour. Everyone else is probably down there already."

"Yeah," Stiles said, walking up next to him and grabbing his bag. He unzipped it and dug around for a pair of his swimming trunks. However, he froze the moment Derek yanked his shirt over his head, putting all that smooth skin and hard muscles on display.

Drool.

Seriously, Stiles knew Derek had to scent his arousal. The smirk on Derek's stupidly handsome face said as much.

"Oh, shut up," Stiles grumbled, though it was without heat. Besides, it wasn't as if Derek wasn't just as affected by Stiles—which was proven when Derek growled after Stiles took his own shirt off.

Stiles could feel Derek's gaze on him. It was like a physical touch, and when he looked over his shoulder, he smirked. Derek's eyes were dark, flared with heat.

"See something you like?" Stiles asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Derek pressed against his back, kissing his shoulder before turning Stiles in his arms. "You know I do."

And when Derek's hand landed on the side of his neck—his thumb creating circles on Stiles's skin that exploded through his body in currents of pleasure—Stiles quit breathing. The look on Derek's face was intense, as if Derek were devouring him with his eyes. And then Derek dropped his hand, only to place it on Stiles's bare waist as he dipped down to mouth at the crook of Stiles's neck.

Derek's lips, so soft and moist, nibbled on his skin. Stiles moaned, tilting his head back in encouragement.

"One day, I'm going to claim you," Derek whispered before biting down a little harder. Then his tongue swept over the spot, sending shivers down Stiles's spine. "Right here."

Jesus fuck.

Stiles wanted that. He wanted Derek to suck bruises onto his neck and shoulders. Onto his chest, stomach, and thighs. He wanted Derek's marks all over him—claiming him. He knew it would happen one day, and he couldn't fucking wait.

Derek's mouth laid a path along Stiles's throat, dropping hot, wet kisses along the way. Stiles's dick sprang to attention, straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Derek raised his head, his tongue landing at Stiles's ear, and Stiles shivered when Derek sucked his earlobe into his mouth.

He gasped.

He moaned.

"You smell so good," Derek whispered before shoving their bags to the floor and pushing Stiles back onto the mattress.

Derek straddled him, urging him to lie down. He attacked Stiles not even a second later, as if he couldn't wait. Kissing him—all hot and wild. Crazed with desire.

Stiles scrambled back to get all the way onto the bed, pulling Derek with him.

Yes, yes, yes, his body chanted as time slammed to a halt. Everything and everyone was forgotten. This was all Stiles wanted right now. All he needed.

Derek's hard, warm body over him, pressing him down into the mattress.

Derek's big hands threaded into his hair.

Derek's mouth slanted down over his again and again.

Oh yes, oh fucking yes, please.

Derek's lips were warm and wet. His tongue made long, greedy draws against Stiles's that made his toes curl. There was absolutely no finesse to their making out; both were too hungry. Too desperate. The room filled with their moans and groans. Their grunts and heavy breathing.

Stiles trailed his hands over the hard planes of Derek's back, the skin-to-skin driving him wild. And then Derek pulled away. Stiles let out a completely unmanly whimper, but Derek grabbed his chest, tweaking his nipples, and Stiles let out a howl of need.

Derek's eyes were half-mast, filled with lust. His golden skin was flushed with desire—for Stiles. It was such a heady feeling. With Derek grinding against him, Stiles was sure he'd blow in his jeans.

Especially when Derek said, "Want to suck you."

And before Stiles could even nod, Derek began dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses across his pecs, lingering over his nipples. Then he traced the centerline of Stiles's chest with his tongue. Like a fucking tease.

Stiles was on fire, panting like a maniac. He lifted his hips when Derek yanked his jeans open, tugging them and his boxers down his legs. And when Derek nuzzled his groin, Stiles fisted the sheets. His grip tightened when Derek's tongue traced his cock. It sent an electric jolt through him, and his hips canted off the bed, desperate for a bit of friction.

When Derek opened his mouth and took Stiles in, Stiles's brain took a sabbatical. It short-circuited as everything was reduced to wet heat and suction.

Stiles looked down his body, and the sight almost undid him. Derek Hale was on his fucking knees—for him. His cheeks were drawn in, and he gave a good, hard suck, making Stiles shout.

Derek moaned, and Stiles watched as he reached down, rubbing himself through his jeans.

Derek moaned again, and the vibration almost finished Stiles off.

"Wanna suck you, too," Stiles rasped.

Derek quickly yanked his jeans open. He pushed them and his boxer briefs off, and they hit the floor with a jingle when he kicked them over the side of the bed. And then Derek was back. He flipped around, kneeling beside Stiles's head, and bent over, taking Stiles from an even better angle than before.

"Ugnng…" Stiles said. It was hard to be eloquent with Derek's mouth on his dick.

He ran his hand up the inside of Derek's bare thigh, his fingers sifting through his soft leg hair on the way to the good stuff. When Stiles cupped him, Derek gasped. When Stiles stroked him, he moaned.

The salty flavor of skin burst on Stiles's tongue when he gave Derek a long, slow suck, and Derek let out the sexiest noise Stiles had ever heard—no matter how many times they did this.

Stiles swirled his tongue and slowly slipped down to the thicket of dark curls at the base of Derek's gorgeous cock, licking every inch of him. Derek was thick and hard and throbbing in his mouth, and then it was practically over.

Derek kept moaning as he thrust into Stiles's mouth, and Stiles knew he wouldn't survive it. It was too good. He was too close.

So. Fucking. Close.

His balls drew up tight, and he pulled off Derek's dick, stroking him as he slammed his head back onto the pillow and gasped, "Oh, fuck. I'm coming."

His orgasm crested, filling his world with intense, pulsing pleasure. A few seconds later, Derek followed him over the edge, coming on a muffled groan, spilling over Stiles's hand and shuddering with satisfaction.

Silence descended as they caught their breaths, Derek panting against Stiles's stomach.

"Come up here," Stiles croaked, wiping his hand on the comforter, and Derek swiveled and fell, his head landing on the pillow beside Stiles.

Derek turned on his side, reaching for him. They kissed, and Derek's mouth was salty now. Stiles could taste himself, and—fuck!—that was hot. They laid there, making out for seconds, minutes, hours, when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

Shit.

Stiles had forgotten that the pack was there, and when he looked up, Erica pushed the door open, her cherry-red lips lifted in a smug grin.

Derek threw a pillow at her, quickly maneuvering his body to shield Stiles from view.

"If you guys are done," she said, easily catching the pillow and throwing it back. "Boyd's got the grill fired up."

Derek swatted the pillow away before it could hit them and let out a sort of growl mixed with an exasperated laugh. "We'll be there in a minute!"

She tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder and turned on her heels. Her laughter echoed down the hall, and Stiles chuckled nervously. It wasn't the first time they'd been caught in a compromising position, but it was still embarrassing.

Derek probably sensed his unease because he began rubbing soothing circles on Stiles's back. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Stiles shrugged, huffing a laugh. "I'm surprised you didn't hear her, though."

"Well," Derek kissed the tip of his nose. There was humor in his eyes. "I was kind of distracted..."

Stiles snorted, then nodded because that was true. Besides, it wasn't as if they had any real sense of privacy with Derek's pack around. After a moment, he said, "Alright. Guess we should change and get out there then."

Derek nodded, giving him a soft kiss before climbing off the bed, and Stiles did the same. They picked their bags up from the floor and found their swim trunks. They quickly cleaned themselves up and changed.

"Ready for the tour?" Derek asked when they were done, and Stiles nodded.

He followed Derek back down the hall to the huge living room with comfortable-looking couches and armchairs. The fireplace was massive and had a large wrought iron clock above it.

Super fancy, but also cozy. Homey.

They walked into the kitchen, and Stiles was sure it could rival any five-star restaurant with its stainless steel, high-end appliances. And there was a large center island that could easily seat Derek's pack.

After a quick tour of the rest of the cabin, Derek and Stiles headed outside. The backyard had a huge firepit, and Stiles couldn't wait to sit out here, curled up on one of the deck chairs while the pack ran under the full moon.

All at once, a wave of calm washed over Stiles. He could still feel the warmth of Derek's hands on his skin and the echo of his pleasure in his body.

Derek put his arm around Stiles as they walked toward the pack, and Stiles couldn't help but smile. This was his life now, and he wanted to savor every moment.

He didn't want to take this for granted—not for one second.

He'd never felt happier.

****

Stiles sat on the back deck, grateful for the warm evening air. He watched in awe as Derek and his pack ran through the woods under the full moon—the sky painted purple. Every once in a while, he could see them dash between the trees, their silhouettes lit by the silvery light. It was a beautiful sight, and somehow, Stiles felt connected to them. As if he could feel their wild energy and connection to the natural world.

There was something about the experience that stirred something deep inside him. Almost as if he were home.

Derek howled. The sound echoed through the trees, and all Stiles wanted to do was be out there with him. Running beside him. Well, more like walking because, honestly, Stiles hated running.

So he stepped off the back deck, shoving his hands in his pockets as he trekked toward the tree line. He breathed in the night air and listened as the pack's responding howls faded into the night.

Usually, Stiles would be scared to walk through the woods at night with the trees casting ominous shadows, their dark fingers stretching toward him in the moonlight. But this time, the moonlit forest was comforting—as if it embraced him. It was almost peaceful. It also helped to know that he wasn't alone. All Stiles had to do was call out, and Derek would come running with three werewolves at his heels.

Stiles closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he took in the sounds and scents around him: rustling leaves, a loud whoop and laughter from the pack, and the smell of damp earth and rotting wood. When he opened his eyes, he smiled at the glow of pale moonlight. It was like an awakening of his senses, and he couldn't help the feeling of contentment that washed over him as he stood there, just inside the tree line.

A branch snapped. Stiles squinted, trying to spot whatever was coming his way. A figure stepped out from the shadows—a hulking beast of a wolf that stood nearly as tall as him, fur black as night.

Derek.

Stiles smiled as he approached, and then his mouth dropped open at the sight of the large buck Derek was dragging. He was speechless as Derek set it at his feet.

Derek looked smug, wearing a smirk that was recognizable in any form. And he had every right to because, sure, Derek was an alpha werewolf, but this buck was massive. Not something Derek chased and snapped up with ease. No, a buck like this wouldn't have been easy prey.

Derek had to hunt this one down.

And Stiles knew there was significance in the gesture. A courting ritual for werewolves. Derek was showing Stiles that he could provide for him—that he would be a good mate.

It sent a thrill through Stiles to know that Derek wanted him that much.

"Thank you," Stiles said, brushing his knuckles down the side of Derek's face, and when Derek sat back on his haunches, Stiles carded his fingers through Derek's soft fur and pressed their foreheads together, smiling. "My alpha."

Derek's tail thumped wildly on the ground before giving Stiles a tongue bath.

"Okay, yeah, no." Stiles grimaced but laughed, pushing Derek back before wiping the slurpy kiss away with his shirt. "We don't make out in wolf form."

Derek chuffed, but there was humor in the tone, so Stiles didn't think he'd offended him. And then Derek gently bit down on Stiles's hand, tugging him back toward the cabin.

Or at least that was where Stiles thought Derek was taking him until Derek turned down the path that led toward the lake. It might not have been the ocean, but it was still beautiful, nonetheless. Derek let him go when they got to the water's edge and trotted out into the water.

Stiles chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The lake was dotted with what looked like tiny sparkles beneath the surface, as if stars had fallen into the water.

"Er, what are you doing?" Stiles asked. "And what about the deer?"

Derek didn't answer. Instead, he ducked under the water, disappearing for a few moments. When he reappeared, he was shifted back.

"The pack will take care of the buck." Derek said, walking out of the water until it was waist-high, looking hot as fuck. The dim light made shadows in the valleys of his abs, taunting Stiles. Teasing him. "The water's nice. You should join me."

"I don't have my suit," Stiles pointed out, but Derek gave him a look that screamed, so? It made sense since Derek was naked, after all.

So Stiles kicked off his shoes before stripping out of his clothes, dropping them onto the rocks at the water's edge. It wasn't a hot night, but the temperature wasn't too bad when Stiles stepped into the water. In fact, it caressed his bare skin as he waded toward Derek.

Derek chuckled, and the sound made Stiles smile, his chest warming. It was probably cliché, but it really was music to his ears.

When he reached Derek, Stiles sprung forward, grabbing Derek's shoulders as he wrapped his legs around him.

Derek cupped his ass and kissed him, moaning into his mouth.

"You are so fucking addictive," Derek whispered when he broke the kiss.

Stiles blushed. Or at least he assumed he was from the heat rising to his cheeks. So he let go of Derek and ducked under the water, swimming out toward the floating platform. Stiles had laid out there earlier after they ate lunch.

The difference now was that the water was dark. Obviously.

The lake was beautiful—and a little creepy, if he were being honest. There was a tiny part of Stiles that hated when his feet touched something he couldn't see. And, as if he manifested it, something touched his leg when he was almost to the dock. He knew it was Derek, though. And sure enough, Derek broke the surface not even a second later, face split in a ridiculous grin.

Stiles splashed him, exclaiming, "You asshole!" Though his tone was light—no heat in his words.

Derek laughed, treading water beside him. "Forgive me?"

Stiles nodded, biting back a grin. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't," Derek promised. The expression on his face was soft and sincere, and Stiles trusted that he really wouldn't.

Derek smiled and hauled himself onto the floating platform, but Stiles didn't climb on just yet. He needed the water to cool his heated skin. Especially when Derek sat on the edge, his legs dangling in the water while his bare chest glistened under the moonlight.

Jesus. So sexy.

When Derek held out his hand, Stiles took it, allowing Derek to pull him up onto the platform. They laid side by side, watching the stars overhead as they talked about anything and everything. About nothing.

Stiles couldn't help himself—he curled closer to Derek, inhaling his scent and feeling content. When Derek cupped his cheek, Stiles leaned in and kissed him. Opened for him as their tongues tangled. And when Derek's fingers wove through the hair at the back of Stiles's head, Stiles moaned, grateful that the darkness gave them some semblance of privacy.

There he was, making out with the most beautiful man, Derek's cock hard against his belly. This had to be what heaven felt like.

Stiles pulled away with a sigh and laid his head on Derek's shoulder, snuggling closer. It was late, and he was getting tired but also wasn't quite ready for the night to end. Still, he must have drifted off at some point because Derek shook him awake. He smiled as Stiles blinked up at him, bleary-eyed.

"Hey," Derek whispered, trailing a finger down the side of Stiles's face. "We should head back. You were falling asleep on my shoulder."

Stiles groaned. Okay, it was more of a yawn.

"It's too soon," he complained.

Derek chuckled. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. There's always tomorrow."

Stiles sighed, but it was half-hearted. He wanted to stay, but Derek was right—they had the rest of the weekend. Besides, it wasn't as if they couldn't cuddle in bed. So he clambered off the dock, shivering as he dipped below the tepid water.

There was a splash beside him, and then Derek popped up next to him, grinning. He spun, giving Stiles his back. "Come on. I'll carry you back."

Stiles couldn't help but smile at the gesture and did as he said. His heart swelled as Derek swam them back to shore.

Twenty minutes and a quick shower later, he was tucked away in bed—heart completely full. And as he drifted off to sleep, Stiles never wanted this feeling to end.

#sterek #sterekfests #sterekfestssummer2023 #sterekfestslake #sterekweeklyocean #mead moons #mead moons claiming #mead moons full moon #mead moons buck #holy shit i wrote something

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gremlinbabe · 10 months

Text

Sterek kink/bdsm club fic

*** wanna write this but could use some help cuz I’d like 30+ ish chapters. Lmk if you’re interested must be 18+ to participate. Supernaturals & pack dynamics exist but supernaturals aren’t known outside of other supernaturals (they all got a spidey sense for it) , Derek is led to supernatural club by his mentor. Stiles and lydia are co owners of said club. All characters will be 21+***

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Scott McCall , Jackson Whittemore, Kira Yukimura, Lydia Martin, Issac lanhey, Allison argent , Cora hale, Jordan Parrish, Malia Hale ,Ethan and Aiden Steiner, Braeden (teenwolf)

Main Ships: Sterek(stilesxderek),Berica(boydxerica) , scissac(scottxissac), jethan(Jacksonxethan), malira(maliaxkira), allisaac(Allison x issac), Jordan x Lydia x Aiden(Aydia, marrish, & SOME Jordan x Aiden)

Secondary ships: sterica & stoyd, some derica, some doyd, jydia(cool with each other but past), Malydira(after jydia breakup), (romantic but taking it very slow because they’re new to men but find each other attractive- will cuddle or occasional kiss)Jordan x Aiden, Cora x Isaac (practices flirting with each other 24/7 but 100% platonic lol ), Cora x og female character(romantic)&(ace!Cora likes nude photos cuz she thinks their neat) , mentions of some scallison (cool with each other but past cuz of different views on wanting kids so they aren’t together BUT both really like issac & think he deserves nice things and date him separately)

Main tags:canon-divergent, magical emissary!stiles, Alpha!Derek, Beta! Erica, Boyd, Issac, Cora, Scott, Allison, Aiden , Ethan, Were coyote!Malia, Kanima! Jackson, kitsune!Kira, Mentor/mistress! Braeden (still working on the tags)

***Prequel***- In beacon hills everyone knew everyone and Derek was tired of it. He’s known for a long time now that he’s bi but he’s always wanted to explore his kinks further or attend some kink or bdsm clubs to see what they could offer him. But being from such a small town everyone’s business is a little too intertwined. He knew he had to leave town if he ever wanted to explore this side of himself. So he joined a site for likeminded individuals who wanted to explore their kinks. He didn’t want to go into this blindly so he knew he had to get educated by someone before stepping into this lifestyle. He talked to many people but eventually he ended up becoming friends with a certified mistress,kink educator, and club event coordinator named Braeden. She explained all the ins and out and do’s and don’t to Derek and explained to him that what he might be looking for is a dom/domme. Knowing that he wouldn’t find a dom and maintain his privacy in beacon hills he had asked her about other places he could go outside of cali. After confirming if he was willing to move to explore his kinks. She recommended a some popular locations. But there was one place in particular stuck out to Derek. She told him that there was a lot of options in New York rumored to have some of the best places to vet for a genuine dom. If he was gonna be serious about this lifestyle and invest his time and energy Derek knew he needed to find a job in the same state even if it wasn’t super close to the clubs & that was fine he didn’t need anyone following him home. Working up the nerve to actually move all the way to New York he started applying to jobs that he could put his auto mechanics degree to good use. At the same time filling in braeden that the next few weeks to some months could be a bit hectic on him so he might not be as consistent in messaging. She understood that moves can be messy and helped him find a moving company for his stuff. But he took the time to clean up any loose ends in beacon hills. Soon he found a place and was getting call backs for jobs. After everything was secured, movers moved the last of his things and he was more settled into his new apartment he filled braeden in on his last few weeks. After adjusting a bit more to his new space he called up braeden. He knew there were special ways to get into some club. So he hired braeden as his mistress for the weekend . He invited her over to his home and she gave him a quick rundown of what to expect, rules, and makings of a safe word.

She had told him that there was a club named hourglass that she’d like to take him to but he had to be led in by collar and leash so it’s known that she’d be in charge of him and making decisions about his safety physically and emotionally for the night . He excitedly nods but he knows she always needs a verbal agreement.

“Yes mistress I’d love to see the club you want to take me to, I don’t mind the leash” he said a little breathless.

“Good, I can lead you there but I have some friends that attend events or work there that could potentially point you in a better direction. You’ve been interested in exploring more with men, if you want to chat with specific people you should always come to me first to check if they’re ok to talk to. Some people have limits for themselves or their partners. If anyone piques your interest you can always let me know and play but participating isn’t mandatory if you don’t feel like in getting in anything tonight you don’t have to. If you’re uneasy you can always come find me I’ll be near and keeping a eye out but I want to you have a more organic experience . And last thing most people understand traffic light rules but remember SSC, RACK, and always remember to have a safe word if you plan to participate. And if none of my friends can provide it for you themselves. I’ll always take care of you.” She sends back a flirty wink.

“I.. I don’t know what to wear” he explained.

“That’s alright sweetheart I think I something perfect for you” she grinned. She opens the bag she walked in with.

You sure you aren’t psychic?” He asks. She laughs “no I just know you’re a newbie.

She pulls out a long sleeve mesh shirt, tiny leather shorts that would barley hold anything, and a slim black leash attached to a soft collar with a spiral on it looked like a piece of the tattoo on his back.

“I let the club owners and staff know I’m bringing you today so if they see a tall, tan, and handsome man with a spiral collar just to keep and eye out in case there’s an emergency and I’m not near.” She explained. “ now get dressed and let’s get going” she handed over the bag.

“Are you changing too?”Derek asked curiously.

“Yes sweetheart I’m already dressed under this” she emphasized by picking up the edge of her shirt.

Additional possible tags: established friendships and relationships for the most part, polyamory, partner switching, smut with plot, supernatural kink club, primal dom, primal sub, cuckolding, switch/verse ,asphyxiation, ropeplay, blood play, knife play, vampirism, Voyeurism, spanking, feet, handcuffs, blindfolds, role play, Olfactophilia, Navel fetishism, Odaxelagnia, Narratophilia, Pygophilia, Omorashi, Pedal pumping, Salirophilia, Troilism, Wet and messy fetishism, Autoerotic asphyxiation, Feederism, Transvestic fetishism, Toxophilia, Lactophilia, Liquidophilia, Maiesiophilia, Maschalagnia, Mazophilia, Pictophilia, Kleptophilia, Algolagnia, Heterophilia, Hoplophilia, Hybristophilia, etc.(a lot honestly lol)

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sterekbros · 9 months

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castles and sandbeasts by Winchesterek

for @sterekfests staycation, @sterekweekly ocean, @sterekbingo beach, @warmandfluffybingocards cry so hard you laugh, and @sterek-and-stuff-events thunder

Stiles watched as Ava rolled around in the sand, her puppy growls and excited yips filling the air. He chuckled as she wiggled on her back and then rolled over, her ears perking up and turning in Derek’s direction.

It was their first family trip to the beach with Ava and both Elijah and Ava were fascinated with the ocean and how the waves rolled up onto the sand.

Derek was standing at the edge of the water with Elijah and he squealed each time the water rushed up and crashed over their feet. The ocean washed back and Elijah chased it, only to turn around and run back into Derek’s arms as it chased him back up the beach. Derek picked Elijah up as Elijah giggled and screamed when the water crashed into Derek’s legs but Elijah was safe in Derek’s arms where the water couldn't get him.

He gave Elijah a kiss on the side of his head and jiggled him before he turned and headed back over to their base camp where Stiles was sitting under a large umbrella with Ava playing nearby.

“How are my boys doing?” Stiles asked, reaching out for Elijah when Derek handed him over, blowing raspberries on his stomach which made Elijah laugh louder.

“Hungry. Thankfully we don't sunburn, otherwise, you’d have two lobsters on your hands.” Derek chuckled and sat down next to Stiles, giving him a kiss.

“And that is why I am under an umbrella. Sunscreen helps a little bit, too.” Stiles sat Elijah next to him when moved to get out of his lap and reached to grab the basket they’d brought with them. “Sandwich?” he asked Derek.

“Yeah, hand it over.” And Stiles did, handing Derek two sandwiches, one for himself and Ava, who promptly ran over to him and jumped on his lap.

“You have to wait, I need to open the bag,” Derek told her, leaning down to kiss her nose even as she nipped at him. He growled and she turned her ears toward him, then sat quietly, looking up at him with her big pleading eyes.

Stiles shook his head, opened one baggie, and took a fourth out, handing it to Elijah. Elijah ate, making those little satisfied noises he always did with every bite as he chewed and Stiles smiled. He ate his own sandwich, watching his family as Derek fed Ava and ate his own. Stiles passed around chips for everyone, which the kids and Derek devoured.

Sometimes he forgot how much werewolves ate, but he really shouldn't since he lived with three of them. Once they were done with lunch, Stiles put away all the trash and stood up, brushing his swim trunks off. “Alright, who’s ready to build a sand castle?!”

“Me!” Elijah said, jumping up and down. “Me! Me! Me!”

Derek and Stiles both laughed and Stiles took Elijah’s hand as they headed over to a nice patch of sand, Ava on his heels as Derek followed them.

They ended up building only half a sand castle before they started burying Derek in the sand, Elijah was way too excited about the prospect of burying his father alive. Ava, of course, sat by Derek’s head and then laid next to him, licking his face and ears to make sure he was okay as the sand covered him until he was trapped.

“Oh, no! I’m trapped! You can't leave me here!” Derek pleaded, looking at Elijah and Ava licked his face again.

Stiles laughed. “Well, maybe for a little while. We still have to build a sandcastle.”

“You’ll be okay Daddy,” Elijah added, patting Derek on the head and walking over to grab his bucket and sand shovel.

Ava whined and rubbed her face against Derek’s, which made him chuckle and try to kiss her back.

“It’s okay pumpkin. Daddy is okay, I promise.” Ava looked at him dubiously in her best-confused puppy look, then yipped at him and laid on top of where Derek’s body was buried in the sand. She rested her head on her paws, staring at him as if she expected him to burst out of the sand at any moment.

“I think she thinks you’re going to stay there forever, Derek,” Stiles teased as he helped Elijah build more buildings for their castle.

“I promise I won't,” Derek told Ava and smiled at her, which caused Ava’s tail to wag. “I’ll escape and then we’ll go running, how does that sound?” She just whined again and then laid on her side, staring at him, and digging her paws against the sand but she was only a few months old so she really couldn't do anything to help Derek escape.

Stiles laughed and he and Eljah built their sand castle, Derek napped and talked to Ava as she stayed near him and as they finished the sand castle, Stiles looked up and saw dark clouds on the horizon.

“I think it’s going to storm…” There was lightning far away in the horizon and Stiles counted until he heard the thunder. “It’s still a way out, so we should have time to get everything together.”

He crawled over to where Derek was and kissed him and then Ava, and then Derek again. “I kinda like that I can kiss you and you can't run away,” he teased. “Maybe I should find a way to keep you trapped more often.”

Derek laughed. “You know you don't have to do that for you to kiss me.”

“No, but it has me thinking about other things,” Stiles replied with a smirk and Derek laughed again before his arms burst out of the sand and he grabbed Stiles as he escaped.

Stiles wailed and laughed hard until he was shaking with it. “Ahhhh! The sand beast has escaped!” he cried out.

Elijah came running, flinging himself at Derek and holding onto his back, trying to free Stiles from Derek’s grasp as Ava jumped around them yipping.

They laughed and laughed until Derek grabbed Elijah and flipped him over his shoulder between them. “I think I’m going to have him for dinner!” he growled and tickled Elijah.

“No Daddy! I’m not dinner!” Elijah shrieked, laughing and flailing.

Stiles barely managed not to get knocked out by his son’s wild arms and legs, holding his belly as he fell over laughing with happy tears in his eyes, Ava promptly jumping on him to make sure he was okay.

“Okay, okay. We can't have Elijah for dinner,” Derek replied and sighed heavily, putting on a show for them. “So then what are we going to eat?”

“Hot dogs!” Elijah shouted. “With mustard!”

Stiles frowned. He really didn't want to eat hot dogs, especially not with mustard. “Can I at least have ketchup with mine?”

Derek chuckled. “You can have anything you want.” He freed himself from the rest of the sand, picking Elijah up as he stood. “Come on, let’s get everything picked up before the storm gets here.”

Stiles scooped Ava up into his arms and nuzzled her, giving her kisses as they cleaned up their things and packed them into the Jeep.

He knew they’d be making more trips like this to see the ocean and he couldn't wait to see his family, happily playing until the sun threatened to set in the horizon.

It was a perfect first trip to the beach and they’d have many more firsts with Ava as she grew. Firsts as a new, bigger family.

Stiles couldn't wait.

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invisible-storyteller · 4 months

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✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

I was tagged by the legend @hedwig221b, and I said fuck it, might as well try something new.

Words and Fics

331,784 words posted on AO3

6 fandoms represented (and I have many more I want to write for, oh geez)

Most Recent Drop: Thirsty and trapped

Longest Fic (Teen Wolf one): A spark of hope (is all I need)

Top Fics by Kudos (Teen Wolf ones, well Sterek actually :P)

Gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day

Everybody wants some (Stiles)

Coming out (sorta?)

Fix my car and fix my tubes

Forget me not, Valentine

My personal favourites (I have to mention them, okay? They are my babies):

It wasn't destiny, we chose this (Sterek)

Complicated Feelings (one-sided Sterek)

5 times Derek talked about death, and 1 time he talked about love (Sterek)

A normal weekday in the Argent-Hale household (Petopher)

My fandom fic events in 2023

@syr-monthly and @sterekyrround events:

My Sweet Bloody Valentine (Forget me not, Valentine)

Summer 3 Event (This is what I went to school for)

Spooktober (A spark of hope (is all I need))

other events:

Kira Appreciation Week (Home is a person).

Teen Wolf Rarepair Halloween Event 2023 (you can find my fics for this here)

Teen Wolf Anchor Down Event 2023 (Come steady me)

Theo Appreciation Week 2023 (Haunted dreams)

Teen Wolf Rarepair Week July 2023 (you can find my fics for this here)

Petopher Event May 2023 (you can find these fics here)

Wow, was I productive. Go me!

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

I'm never sure about events because I don't know when I'll be able to commit, but I had too much fun this year with all the events not to repeat something similar next year.

My projects (oh, boy, I have a lot! But just the ones I'm most excited about):

Pack Secret Santa (I really wanna finish this in 2023)

College smut: "straight" Derek and "straight" Stiles have a threesome but instead of the girl, they focus on each other and then start hooking up

5+1 where Stiles loves calling Derek his boyfriend, love of his life etc and does it any chance he gets

Sterek Purge!AU with slightly dark!Stiles

Stand-up comedians!AU

Sterek PWP with consensual non-con

Soulmate!AU but Stiles doesn't realize they are soulmates and Derek thinks Stiles is rejecting him because he's in love with Laura

and a bunch of other stuff that I'll never have the time to write

Rules & Tags below the cut!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

If you wanna @0hheytherebigbadwolf since you always bless my page with awesome posts.

#fic writing review 2023 #sterek

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tw-anchor-down · 30 days

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3 Days...

Until the 4th Round of TW Anchor Down starts (on April 1st, no joke)! If you’d like some more inspiration, you can always combine TWAD prompts with other challenges or events from this handy events directory. Feel free to also use any previous round prompts from the prompt card filing cabinet if you’re running behind and/or still need to catch up. Here are some challenges and events that are happening between April, May and June of 2024:

>> Sterek and Stuff Events- Spring Moons: Equiphlox (March 19 - May 22) and Eclipse (April 8 - May 22) >> Sterek Unhinged Boyfriends Event (Feb 8 - May 8) >> Stackson Week (April 3-9) >> Teen Wolf Rare Pair Events- Character of the Month (on-going) >> Full Moon Ficlet (ongoing) >> Sterek Drabbles (ongoing) >> Sterek Bingo (ongoing) >> Sterek Weekly (ongoing) >> Sterek Prompt Meme (ongoing) >> Steter-Stackson Bingo (ongoing) >> Teen Wolf Bingo (ongoing) >> Teen Wolf Poly Bingo (ongoing) >> Whumpril (daily whump prompts for April) >> Domaystic (daily domestic prompts for May) >> Whumpay (daily whump prompts for May) >> June of Doom (daily whump prompts for June) >> Art Prompt Calendar (daily prompts posted every month, multi-ship and multi-fandom) >> Horrific Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Hurt and Comfort Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> LGBTQA+ Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Sweet and Spicy Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Slash Multiverse (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> The Reverse Prompt Challenge (multi-fandom; updated quarterly) >> Warm and Fluffy Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Whump Challenges Galore (ongoing and multi-fandom)

If you know about other challenges that should be added to this list, send an ask. Hope y’all are ready! Look like Malia’s going to have to write all of these details down to start planning!

#twanchordown2024 #teen wolf #teen wolf events #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanart #fic challenge #art challenge #prompt challenge #countdown #signal boost #twadwaxingcrescent24 #mod post

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noxnthea · 2 months

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i was tagged by three whole people in this earlier this week (you're all so lovely and i appreciate you all so much @sterek-unhinged @missanniewhimsy and @dear-massacre)

Get to know you game! Answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to know better!

Last song listened to: What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club (but also special shoutout to readbythilia's podfic of The Boy and The Beast which I just finished listening to this morning)

Currently reading: The Poppy War by RF Kuang, and also Variations on Belief by moonstalker24 as my few-chapters-before-bed fic this week.

Currently watching: the new(ish?idk) Halo on Paramount. I'm very mad about it.

Currently obsessed with: the creative sides I'm getting to see of several of my marvel/dc friends thanks to @dc-marvel-crossovers' fanworks of fanworks event. everyone's making dope stuff and learning new skills and I'm OBSESSED WITH ALL OF YOU

No pressure tagging: anyone who sees this! yes, YOU.

#tag game

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heavensenthale · 1 year

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darlin', this is more than anything I felt before

fandom: teen wolf relationship: derek/stiles word count: 4.5k written for sterek secret santa 2022 edition

JULY

“I’m telling you, Derek, this full shift stuff is next level awesome. Can you teach Scott how to do it?”

They were sitting in Derek’s loft a week after the events in La Iglesia, where Derek almost died… again. Stiles had been hovering because for a hot second he thought that was it: that Derek would die before Stiles— before he— before Stiles could say something. The what was still a question inside his own head, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he asked Derek for his library, and began transcribing notes for posterity.

Derek allowed it and most times stayed silent doing his own thing —which wasn’t much anyway— while Stiles typed furiously, only partially distracted by Derek walking around or sitting down with a book as he was today, sitting three feet from Stiles, uncaring, unknowing of what he was doing to Stiles’ heart.

“As I’m pretty sure I told you before, it’s inherited, not taught.”

“Man, that sucks,” Stiles continues perusing the book on Derek’s table, trying to decipher the handwritten annotations along the borders with varying degrees of success.

“For him,” Derek replies, making Stiles crack a smile. Werewolf’s got jokes, he gets it.

Derek read a lot during the time Stiles studied the notes, rarely responding to Stiles' questions, so this must be a good day.

“Yeah, how does it feel for you?” He might as well try to get some answers while he’s at it, and he’s been curious about the full shift ever since that night. “You wanna share a little of that werewolf wisdom?”

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. “For your little side project?”

“Off the record,” he replies, raising a hand to signal a promise to the sky. “Cross my heart and hope to live a long, boring life.”

Derek stays silent, each second stretching between them, pulling them closer. Stiles can feel there’s something in the air when he says, looking directly into Stiles’ eyes. “It really feels like I have… evolved. It feels like I can see things clearly for once…”

He trails off, standing up in a rush, keeping his distance. Stiles wonders what it is that made him move away, if it was Stiles’ heart beating senselessly inside his ribcage. “Maybe you should leave for the day, Stiles.”

“Why?”

“Just. Go, please.” He’s gripping the edge of the table in a way that reminds him of Scott’s first couple of full moons, but he files it away for later.

“What if I want to stay, have you considered that?”

“You don’t know what you want. You’re 18.”

“I thought we were past this,” replies Stiles, frustrated. He closes the book as if it burns him and then slams his laptop shut in the same fashion. As he packs his things, he takes a long look at Derek, at the outline of his profile against the sunset and says, “I saved your ungrateful ass in Mexico. Twice. Could you be at least a little, I don’t know, nice, for a change?”

Stiles walks to the door, about to use all his strength in opening it so he could slam it closed, when Derek calls to him. “You’re still welcome to come tomorrow.”

Anger leaves his body as soon as it came. Stiles half turns to see Derek and finds him just as beautiful as ever, the orange background cutting his silhouette in a stark contrast. He could say something, but what’s the point, anyway? So he just nods in his direction and leaves.

The next day, they go back to not talking and it works for them the entire afternoon. And the afternoons after that until all of their summer is spent working side by side without much in the way of interaction except for the occasional comments here and there when one of them gets up for water or tea.

It becomes so natural that when his final school year starts, he tries to squeeze in his hours of Derek time at the cost of some of Scott’s movie nights. Until one night Stiles arrives from school to find the lights turned off and a note taped to the coffee table.

Cora needs me. I’ll be back soon.

Stiles doesn’t even question it. He just goes to his normal spot, takes a book from Derek’s shelf and sits down to decipher some more handwriting.

[continue reading on AO3]

#sterek #eternal sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf fic #miliwrites (allegedly)

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endwersed · 5 months

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✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

Tagged by the lovely @dear-massacre 💖

Words and Fics

180,988 words posted on AO3

2 fandoms represented, Teen Wolf & Hollyoaks

Most Recent Drop: feels so good inside

Longest Fic: and i'll write you a tragedy

Top Fics by Kudos

as dear as a brother

we live (not as we wish to but) as we can

another name for love

and i'll write you a tragedy

how fast or how far

My fandom fic events in 2023

None 🫣 Every time I've tried to work to a deadline, it creates writer's block, so I've just... left it to the incredible others who do them 🫶🏻

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

No events - but plenty of projects in the pipeline!

Nanny AU, where Derek is a married CEO and Stiles is the live-in nanny

Nanny AU sequel, because yes, I have indeed already planned the sequel before I have even finished writing the original

Steo into Sterek college baseball AU

Deputy Hales AU, where Derek & Laura are the newest BH deputies

Mpreg AU, where Stiles gets pregnant after a one night stand

Rules & Tags below the cut!

Tags: Anyone that wants to! I actually am not exactly sure who of my mutuals writes, so if you want to be tagged in stuff like this in the future just let me know 🥰

#sterek #teen wolf #my fic

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sterek-and-stuff-events · 8 months

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Mead Moons Sterek Round Up

Second Chance Strays by TriskHellion E | 8.4k | magical stiles | fuck or die | getting together

Thunder by TriskHellion E | 12k | werefox-kitsune stiles | rural montana | angst & fluff & smut

wild and free by Winchesterek T | 1k | est. relationship | summer vacation | fluff

While We Still Have Time by TriskHellion T | 3.1k | road trip | angst w/ a happy ending | getting together

i’ll be your love by EvanesDust G | 1.3k | est. relationship | summer vacation | falling in love

castles and sandbeasts by Winchesterek G | 1.3k | est. relationship | kidfic | day at the beach

be everything that you need by EvanesDust E | 3.4k | est. relationship | fluff & smut | werewolf courting

i’ll love you more with every breath by EvanesDust T | 2k | est. relationship | car trouble | love confessions

CLAIM! by TriskHellion E | 11.9k | getting together | making up | angst & fluff & smut

The Depths by TriskHellion E | 1.5k (WIP) | post-nogitsune stiles | sea creature derek | norway

the wolf and the renaissance fair by Winchesterek G | 1.6k | est. relationship | slice of life | family fluff

Thanks for participating!

#sterek #sterek fanfic #sterek & stuff events #mead moons #round up

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triskhellion · 10 months

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Thunder

Rated: Explicit (12K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, minor OCs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We’re not all the same in this town.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roaring. Ringing. Static.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Green eyes stared until everything was gray.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything is moving so fast. I am unlimited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wanted you to."

"Yeah?" Derek asked softly, almost disbelieving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad you did.”

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

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

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

The fox made a noise of amused commiseration.

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

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

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

“Mmhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

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

“Beacon Hills…California?”

“Yes…” Sean responded hesitantly.

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

There was a sharp inhale.

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, we never found out who—“

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

“Holy shit,” Sean repeated.

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

“So those three Hunters…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was self-defense.”

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

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

“Thank you,” he said, throat tight.

“De nada, mate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, I like it.”

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

A belly laugh erupted out of Derek shaking them both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek froze.

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

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

“I was rough with you.”

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

Derek hmmed. “And you’re not…hurt?”

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

He sighed in relief.

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

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

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

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

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

Well then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have all we need.

Thanks for reading!

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

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

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