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evanesdust · 10 months

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🔽 story below the cut 🔽

Stiles checked himself in the mirror for what was probably the fifth time in as many minutes. He thought he looked okay with his hair falling on the right side of messy and his clothes perfectly pressed. At least his hands no longer shook as they had nearly two weeks ago when he'd gone on his first date with Derek.

Considering it had been his first date ever, it wasn't exactly a surprise. Though part of him knew he shouldn't have been nervous at all. It hadn't exactly been a traditional first date, after all. Most people didn't have to hire someone as if it were a job. To pick them up and take them to a nice restaurant.

But Stiles had.

It was embarrassing being twenty-one and never having gone on a date. It hadn't really been intentional. Stiles had just never really been interested in anyone during high school, and apparently, no one had been interested in him either. At least not enough to ask him out, anyway.

And then, in college, Stiles had been so focused on school that a love life was out of the question.

But now…

Now Stiles wanted that experience. And at first, he hadn't exactly been sure what he should do. Asking his friends or coworkers how to ask someone out would have been embarrassing, and it wasn't as if anyone was knocking down his door for a date. So for shits and giggles—and after a drink or five—he went to the one place that always answered his questions.

Google.

After wading through dating site after dating site, he'd stumbled upon Derek Hale's website for a rental boyfriend. Well, it was a little more complex than that. Still, a date was one of the experiences Derek offered, and Stiles jumped on the opportunity without a second thought.

That had been a couple of weeks ago, and their date had gone…well, it had been a little awkward if Stiles were being completely honest. He'd been a mess of nerves all day, only getting worse the closer it got for Derek to pick him up. He almost canceled a couple of times. Almost messaged that he would just meet Derek at the restaurant instead to give himself much-needed extra time, but then Derek was there, knocking on his front door.

He'd looked so good in dark jeans and a henley. And flowers! The man had brought him flowers, which made Stiles swoon. He hadn't known what to expect when Derek showed up, but his smile had been bright, putting Stiles at ease a little. Especially since Derek hadn't acted like it was a job. It was as if they were truly on a first date.

So, Stiles supposed it kind of made sense that the night had been awkward then��at least from what he'd heard of first dates.

They'd sat through a stilted dinner where Derek, who was apparently an incredibly patient person, had pretty much led the conversation as he tried to calm Stiles's nerves. It hadn't worked. Stiles had been too much in his head because—Christ!—Derek was gorgeous. And nice. And sweet. And charming. And so fucking far out of Stiles's league.

By the time the date was over and Derek had dropped him off, Stiles had been sure that Derek would ask him to forget his website ever existed. To never contact him again, but he hadn't.

In fact, Derek had surprised Stiles by cupping his cheek and whispering, 'I hope I'll see you again,' which was the only reason Stiles went to his website a few days later and set up another date.

And another.

And another after that.

All of which had gone infinitely better. Of course, they had. Derek was a great guy, and once Stiles got over all his nerves, it was as if they'd known each other their whole lives. Naturally, Stiles developed a bit of a crush. Just a small one. It wasn't as if he'd started planning their wedding or anything.

(Spring, in the preserve, surrounded by friends and family.)

God, this was a disaster.

But before Stiles could think any more about how this whole thing would only end in heartbreak, the familiar purr of Derek's Camaro pulled him out of his thoughts. With one last deep breath, Stiles patted his pockets, ensuring he had his phone, wallet, and keys. He did, so he headed out the front door, locking up behind him.

"Hey," he said, sliding into the Camaro and sinking into the now familiar leather seats. Seriously, Stiles loved Derek's car. Sorry, Roscoe. Not that Stiles didn't love his Jeep, but the Camaro was all sleek and sexy. Soft leather, cool to the touch. For now, at least. In a few weeks, when the temperatures warmed, it would definitely be a different story. Not that Stiles would have to worry about that because there was no way he could afford these dates for much longer.

But anyway!

His mind flitted back, trying to figure out what he had been thinking about before his thoughts devolved into leather and heat.

Oh yes! The Camaro and how it was Derek's, and fuck. Now all Stiles could think about was Derek bending him over the hood and—

No.

Stiles blew out a breath because he absolutely could not let his mind wander into NSFW territory. Derek was a werewolf. An alpha at that, with a keen sense of smell. Though Stiles knew it wouldn't be the first time Derek was subjected to the scent of his arousal, Derek had always been gentlemanly enough not to mention it. Still, it would be impolite to make Derek's car smell like that for however long it took to dissipate.

So Stiles rolled his window down a bit, hoping whatever scents were coming off him would drift away with the wind.

Derek gave him a soft smile, reaching over and squeezing his hand. Always so affectionate, but it was what Stiles had paid for, so he tried not to read into it. Derek made it difficult, though. No one was that good an actor, so sometimes—sometimes—Stiles couldn't help but wonder if maybe Derek liked him, too.

"I hope you like what I have planned," Derek said, removing his hand to shift the car into reverse.

Stiles instantly missed the warmth. "I'm sure I will."

So far, there hadn't been a single date he didn't enjoy—including the first one. Of course, those had all been dinners and this was a lunch date. Derek had talked him into it when he called after Stiles had booked his time. Derek almost seemed a little shy when he asked if they could do something a little different.

"Do I get any hints?" Stiles asked, taking Derek's hand when he reached over again.

Derek shook his head, but having grown up in Beacon Hills, Stiles recognized when Derek left the main road and turned off down a familiar trail. One that led to lookout point, a popular hangout spot when Stiles was in high school. Nowadays, kids had other interests and probably didn't know about the spot or its view of the town below.

"I haven't been up here in a few years," Stiles said when Derek parked. The area was a bit more overgrown, and the path leading up to the peak was in dire need of maintenance, but he still recognized it.

Derek gave him a smile before climbing out of the Camaro, practically sprinting around the hood to open the passenger door. Stiles took his hand, letting Derek help him out of the car, and he couldn't help but smile at the gesture. It was something Derek did every time they went out.

It really was too bad this was all fake because Derek was the best boyfriend. Not that Stiles had anything to compare it to.

"I thought you might like it," Derek told him as he pushed the seat forward and reached into the back. Half a second later, he popped back up with a picnic basket and blanket. "I come up here every once in a while."

The excitement in his voice made Stiles feel slightly less exposed, as if Derek actually liked him and was sharing something special. For the moment, Stiles could pretend this was an actual date, a real one, and he could bask in the sunshine and the view and Derek's company.

"It's quiet," Derek continued, taking Stiles's hand and leading him up the path to the cliff. "Beautiful."

Stiles stared out over the town, nodding in agreement. It really was beautiful up here, and he almost wished it were later so they could watch the sun dip below the horizon. He could imagine the moon shining above them and the stars twinkling while they sat with their legs dangling off the cliff, the distant lights in town blinking on.

But the afternoon sun beat down on them where they settled on a patch of grass. Well, on the blanket Derek brought.

"So, what made you decide on a picnic?" Stiles asked, smiling as he met Derek's gaze.

Derek set the basket between them, opening it and pulling out two sandwiches, a bag of chips, a container of fresh fruit, and two sodas. Dr. Pepper. It was Stiles's favorite.

"Well, the dates we've been going on have been great, don't get me wrong." Derek handed a sandwich and soda can to Stiles. "But there's more to dating than just going to dinner. I figure, next time—if you want, that is—we could check out a museum or the observatory. We could also go to the beach."

Stiles's heart flipped in his chest despite knowing Derek was just securing future dates with a client, but damn. He wanted that. He wanted to walk through the museum, fingers tangled with Derek's. Wanted Derek pressed behind him at the observatory, pointing up to the sky as he called out the different constellations. Wanted to stroll the beach, arms locked. With Derek.

"That sounds good. And this all looks great," Stiles said, eyes locked on the food in front of him. A feeling of contentment mixed with apprehension squeezed his chest.

This was all fake. Stiles just needed to keep reminding himself of that.

"Thanks." Derek wore a shy smile as he unwrapped his sandwich. "It's not much, but I hope you like it."

Like it?

Stiles loved it. He took one bite of the sandwich and moaned. Actually, to call it a sandwich was a travesty. The French bread was buttery and sweet. Warm like it was freshly baked. Whatever sauce Derek used (vinegar or oil or something) was perfection with the lunch meat, three different kinds from what Stiles could tell. He'd have to ask later after he was done devouring everything. There was even lettuce and red onions, and Stiles hated red onions.

"S'good," he mumbled around a mouthful. He'd be embarrassed if he weren't so busy stuffing his mouth with deliciousness. And Derek even got kettle chips, another of Stiles's favorites.

Derek's soft laughter filled the air. "Glad you like it."

Stiles swallowed and flashed a grin in Derek's direction. His words almost sounded relieved, as if he'd been worried, though there was no reason to. Stiles took a few more bites of his sandwich, popped some chips into his mouth, then chugged the soda.

The last thing he wanted was to blurt out something dumb. Like telling Derek that he had a crush on him. Because that would lead to word vomit about Derek being perfect and how Stiles wanted to have his babies. Which wasn't even a possibility considering he was a guy and lacked certain parts, but he'd been reading omegaverse stories lately, and fuck, he wished those kinds of omegas were real because he was sure he'd be one.

He could be Derek's omega. He'd go into heat and Derek would help him through it. And, oh yeah, throw in an accidental pregnancy because it was fiction. Fictional romance for that guaranteed happy ending.

Fuck.

Sweeping pieces of grass from the blanket, Stiles stared at the ground and barely resisted the urge to smack his forehead. Barely. Honestly, the only reason he didn't was because Derek would probably think he was certifiable. God, how long had he been daydreaming? Because when Stiles snuck a peek at Derek, he was looking at him with concern, eyebrows drawn in and forehead creased.

"Ah," Stiles brushed his hair out of his eyes, laughing nervously. "Sorry about that. Kind of got lost in my head there for a second."

The corners of Derek's mouth twitched. He placed a hand on Stiles's arm, the warmth of it instantly calming him. "That's alright. I think we all get a little lost in our thoughts sometimes."

Stiles nodded, smiling softly because Derek never made him feel weird or stupid for his awkwardness like others had in the past. He never gave Stiles funny looks or scoffed at him. Never said anything negative. In fact, he always seemed to know the right thing to say, putting Stiles at ease.

Derek pulled his hand away, returning to his sandwich, and Stiles managed to finish his food, taking his time as they talked and laughed, the conversation growing more and more natural as it always did. Work, friends, family, and ordinary things that came up in everyday life. But thankfully, Derek hadn't asked what Stiles had been thinking about. That was something Stiles would never be able to explain.

Minutes turned into hours as they talked, and as the sun started to dip below the horizon, Derek suggested they stay for the sunset. Stiles eagerly agreed despite the allotted time for their date being over because fucking duh. More time with Derek. Totally worth whatever added cost Derek charged him.

After packing up, they settled on the cliffside, feet brushing the edge where it dropped off since Derek wouldn't let him get any closer. The sky glowed bright orange and pale pink, and they were both hypnotized, their eyes glued to the spectacle before them.

Stiles exhaled, the corners of his lips tugging up, feeling content and peaceful. He glanced at Derek, who was wearing the same smile, his gaze on the horizon. Stiles's stomach fluttered as if a million butterflies had taken flight within. This was something he could get used to. Him and Derek. He wanted to stay here, sitting side by side for hours, watching the days end and night take over. But reality pulled him from his musings, reminding him that this was Derek's job.

So he looked back over the town, the lights already twinkling against the backdrop of the ever-darkening sky, a few stars already peeking out. He took in a deep breath, just savoring the moment.

"It's so beautiful," he said, unable to contain the awe.

Derek nodded, turning toward him, and Stiles couldn't help but meet his gaze.

"Yeah…beautiful," Derek whispered.

Stiles's heart slammed in his chest when Derek's eyes moved to his lips, and he subconsciously licked them. He felt like a struck match, with everything bursting into flames inside him. Heat rushed through his veins, and Stiles swore electricity sparked between them.

Derek's eyes shifted back to his, darkening with something that made Stiles forget how to breathe. It was as if a million volts were running through his body.

What was happening here?

The night air seemed to hum with anticipation, and Stiles knew Derek could feel it, too, with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He knew Derek could feel the current between them, and it was getting strongerstrongerstronger.

Everything was. Derek's gaze, the smoldering heat, the thunder of their heartbeats.

It was too much.

Stiles cleared his throat, his palms slick with sweat.

"We should head back," he said, breaking the trance.

Derek blinked, nodding, though Stiles swore he could sense disappointment emanating from him. But Derek didn't say a word as they got up, gathered the basket and blanket, and headed back to the Camaro.

A twenty-minute car ride had never felt so long. The drive was quiet, the silence between them uncomfortable and awkward in a way Stiles hadn't experienced before. Not even their first date. He hated it. But when they got back to Stiles's house, Derek pulled into the driveway and parked as he always did, getting out to walk Stiles to his door.

Stiles's hands shook as he took his keys from his pocket to unlock his front door. "I—"

His words died as he glanced back at Derek and was met by those dark, burning eyes. He swallowed thickly, his entire body tense as Derek just looked at him. Then without warning, Derek surged forward, cupping his face and kissing him.

Derek. Was. Kissing. Him.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his eyes closing on instinct. He melted into Derek, into the warmth and electricity coursing through his veins and singing in his ears. He could barely believe this was happening. His heart raced and his breath came out in pants.

Derek pulled away, gazing down at him.

Stiles's mind whirled, trying to process what had happened. Derek had never kissed him before. It wasn't an option for their dates as far as he knew, and Stiles knew he should speak, but Derek beat him to it.

"I couldn't help myself," Derek breathed, brushing his knuckles down the side of Stiles's face. "I've been wanting to do that since our first date."

Stiles could only lick his lips, chest heaving because holy fuck. That kiss. His first kiss. And for that, he regretted not saying anything because Derek gave him a brief nod, then spun around and jogged back to his Camaro, leaving Stiles standing there wide-eyed and stunned.

It took a few moments for Stiles to regain his composure, and when he did, he realized Derek was still sitting in the driveway. So he gave a half-wave, like an idiot, but Derek only arched a brow in a way that told him he wasn't leaving until Stiles was safely inside his house.

As much as Stiles wanted to roll his eyes because he wasn't a child, he unlocked his door and went inside. Before he closed the door, though, he made it a point to shoo Derek away, which earned him a grin.

Things couldn't be too bad if Derek grinned, right?

Stiles closed the door and locked it behind him, a dopey smile spreading across his face as he leaned against the cool wood grain. He could still feel Derek's lips ghosting over his, still feel the fire surging through his veins, and couldn't stop thinking about the look on Derek's face. The intensity in his eyes; it made his stomach flip.

Something was different. Very different.

And so, once again, Stiles had to wonder…could Derek like him, too?

Sunlight filtered through his bedroom curtains as Stiles jolted awake with a sharp inhale. He lowered his arms from their position over his head and dragged his palms slowly down his face, willing his brain to function.

His head hurt. His chest hurt. Stiles couldn't breathe through his nose, and he was warm. Too warm. His entire body ached as he rolled to his side and hacked up a lung. An inhumane noise escaped him as he tried to sit up, followed by another coughing fit. Stiles had no idea who the fuck got him sick, but he hoped they stepped on a fucking Lego.

The doorbell chimed, and Stiles groaned.

That must have been what had woken him, but who could it be? His dad had already stopped by that morning, plus he had an afternoon shift at the station, so it wouldn't be him. He knew it couldn't be Lydia because she wouldn't chance catching whatever ailment he had. Though she might have sent something to help him get better—chicken noodle soup or medicine.

That was more likely, honestly. And Stiles couldn't let the delivery person or the groceries just sit there, so he dragged himself out of bed. Literally. He had damn near no strength, so the only thing that kept him upright was using the bedposts and then the dresser for support. The walls were also great at making sure he didn't fall flat on his face as he padded down the hall, considering his legs were so damn weak.

Seriously, he hated being sick.

A cough? Fine, he could deal with that. A runny nose? Yeah, that sucked, but oh well. Tissues were his best friend then. But the all-over body aches because he couldn't stop shivering? The figurative elephant sitting on his chest when he tried to breathe? No thanks. That was a whole lot of fuck that shit.

By the time Stiles got to the door, he really, truly hoped it was a delivery from Lydia and not the mailman or something. If this was one of those door-to-door people trying to sell him on lawn maintenance, he might commit murder.

He'd fail, considering he couldn't move an inch without leaning against something, but it was the thought that counted.

"Stiles?"

His name was muffled through the door, but Stiles would recognize that voice anywhere.

Derek.

Shit. What time was it? They were supposed to go out again today, but Stiles had canceled since he was sick. Right? Shit, he hoped he'd actually canceled and didn't do something like forget to send the message. Honestly, that would be his fucking luck right now.

"Stiles?" Derek said again, sounding worried.

Which made sense because, honestly, it had probably been a good ten minutes since Stiles crawled out of bed and shuffled like a zombie to the door. And now he was kind of just standing there, staring at said door now, while he wondered what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

Oh, right. Opening the door.

God, why was that so hard right now?

Stiles flipped the lock and turned the knob, but holy crap, it took all his strength to open the door. The effort made him double over, coughing again.

Warmth enveloped him as he was lifted, and Stiles instinctively curled into it. Against Derek's chest. Stiles barely had a chance to appreciate being in Derek's arms before he was carefully set down on the couch.

He closed his eyes, groaning as he shivered. Fuck, it was freezing. All he wanted was to curl back up into Derek's warmth, but then Derek covered him with the blanket that had been thrown over the armrest. So Stiles curled in on himself, basking in the warmth of his blanket burrito as Derek walked into the kitchen.

Stiles had no idea what Derek was doing, but he recognized the sounds of rustling bags, his kitchen cabinets being opened and closed, and what was either a pot or pan being put on the stove.

It was kind of weird, but even though they barely knew each other, Stiles felt instantly at ease with Derek in his space. Which was funny because Derek had never even been in his house before, but there he was, puttering around the kitchen as if he belonged.

Maybe. Stiles wasn't exactly watching him because it hurt to open his eyes. But Derek generally seemed comfortable in any space whenever they were together. Ever since their picnic two weeks ago, they no longer limited themselves to dinner. They had yet to go to a museum or the observatory, but they'd gone hiking and to the movies. They'd gone to a concert one day and kayaking on the lake another. Derek had even taken Stiles to cheer on the local baseball team.

They weren't the Mets, but Stiles had fun regardless.

So much fun and Stiles couldn't help but feel like he'd missed out on so much by not dating before. But at the same time, he wasn't sure he would have wanted to experience any of that with someone other than Derek.

It was Derek that made it fun. His laugh, his smile. His kisses—because that was a thing they did now.

The soft feel of Derek's hand brushed Stiles's forehead, and Stiles managed to crack one eye open.

Derek slid his palm to Stiles's cheek, his brows drawn tight as he stared into Stiles's eyes.

"Hey," Derek said, his voice quiet and full of worry.

"Hey," Stiles croaked, his throat so dry.

Derek looped an arm behind Stiles's back, helping him sit up before holding out a glass of water. "Here, drink this."

Stiles took a sip as it was held to his lips, and he couldn't help the way his body flushed at the caring gesture. Hopefully, Derek wouldn't be able to tell the difference considering Stiles always had rosy cheeks when he was sick.

"Thank you," Stiles whispered before he turned away, hunching over to cough into the crook of his arm. Derek might be a werewolf and immune to human illnesses, but it would still be rude to cough in his face.

God, his chest hurt.

"When was the last time you took medicine?" Derek asked when Stiles's coughing fit seemed to be done. The joke was on Derek, though, because as soon as Stiles tried to answer, he was sent into another one.

Derek rubbed his back and Stiles slowly sat back up when he was done.

"Thanks. And um, I don't know. After I texted you, canceling our date. I did text you, right?" Stiles asked, even though if Derek was here, he obviously hadn't.

Which made him feel like shit.

Until Derek answered, "Yes, you did. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I brought some soup. It's heating up on the stove. And I got you some medicine, too."

He handed over a CVS bag, and when Stiles opened it, his eyes widened. Inside was just about every type of medicine he could ever need. Pain relievers, decongestants, antihistamines, cough suppressants, and expectorants. There were even throat drops, Kleenex, and one of those sinus rinse kits.

"I, uh…" Derek rubbed the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching across his chest at the movement. "I wasn't sure what to get, so I asked one of the pharmacists. But then they mentioned being careful in case you had allergies to certain medicine, so I just grabbed a bunch of different things. I'm not entirely sure they were supposed to sell all of this to me because their machine kept making noises, and they had to have someone come override something, but yeah. Anyway. There should be something in there you could use."

There was a slight blush over his cheeks and even the tips of his ears were tinged pink. Oh fuck, Derek was adorable.

"Thank you," Stiles said, not bothering to hide the awe he felt that Derek would go to so much trouble. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I just hated the thought of you being sick."

Before Stiles could respond, Derek got up and returned to the kitchen. Stiles stared after him, his chest aching for a different reason now. He was falling for Derek.

Hard.

Literally, too, as he threw himself back down on the couch, the bag of medicine still in his lap. He covered his head with the blanket as he tried to drown out his thoughts. Except naturally, he couldn't since they were in his head which was also under the blanket.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since Derek went back into the kitchen, probably mere seconds, but soon his face was exposed again as Derek peeled back the blanket.

Stiles refused to open his eyes until a washcloth rubbed over his forehead, wiping away the sweat.

"You should take something," Derek whispered, taking the bag from Stiles's lap.

All Stiles could do was nod since he didn't trust himself to speak. With his luck, his brain-to-mouth filter would fail and he'd blurt out a marriage proposal—or beg Derek to date him for real. Okay, maybe not either of those, but he might ask if there was a chance Derek liked him, too, which was just as bad.

And Stiles wasn't ready to experience the sting of that rejection just yet. Because as much as he wondered if Derek actually liked him, the truth was that Derek was paid to go on those dates with him. Not to mention, he genuinely seemed like a nice guy, and Stiles didn't want to take Derek's kindness as anything more than just that.

Plus, if he remembered the contract correctly since this was a last-minute cancellation, he was being charged the full amount of the date anyway.

"Which one…?" Derek seemed unsure as he looked in the bag because, of course, he was. He was a werewolf and clearly didn't know anything about human illnesses. Proven by the fact that he'd probably bought out the store.

Stiles should ask him for the receipt to pay him back.

What he did instead was point to the package of Sudafed, which Derek promptly opened, handing him two pills. Stiles propped himself up on an elbow, then popped them in his mouth and picked up the glass of water on the coffee table to swallow them down.

Derek took the glass when he was done and felt his forehead again.

"You shouldn't get too close to me," Stiles groaned even as he leaned into Derek's touch.

"I can't get sick." Derek looked at him with a fond expression as he brushed away the hair that had fallen over Stiles's eyes. Then he dug in the bag again and pulled out a jar of Vaporub. "So this might seem weird, but when I was at the store, this sweet older lady suggested I try this. She swore by it."

Stiles furrowed his brows in confusion as Derek reached down, pulling the blanket away from Stiles's feet. Gently, he lifted one foot, took Stiles's sock off, and opened the jar. The strong scent of menthol filled Stiles's senses as Derek spread a thin layer on the sole of his foot before covering it with a sock again.

"A little old lady told you this would work?" Stiles asked as Derek repeated the process on his other foot. How the hell was Vaporub on the bottom of his feet supposed to help his cold or whatever this was? But Stiles wasn't about to question it when he wanted to groan at how good the inadvertent foot massage was. Or maybe it was the fact that Derek was also taking his pain. Stiles recognized it as black tendrils snaked up Derek's arm.

Derek nodded. "Said she does this when she's sick and did it with all her kids when they were younger, and they'd always feel better the next day."

"Well, I already feel like I can breathe better." To prove his point, Stiles inhaled deeply, letting out a deep sigh when he didn't start coughing.

Only he spoke too soon. Stiles doubled over to cough, though he had to admit that his chest didn't hurt as bad now.

"Just rest," Derek told him, making sure Stiles was tucked back under the blanket. "The soup should be warm now. I'll go make you a bowl."

Derek disappeared into the kitchen again, and Stiles thought about how this was—despite everything—one of the best moments of his life. So it wasn't really a surprise that he couldn't help but think it had to mean something that Derek would go to all this trouble and expense to make sure he was okay.

Right?

Stiles watched Derek move around the kitchen, pulling a bowl down from the cabinets and grabbing a spoon from the drawer, and smiled. If only he were brave enough to ask Derek what this was, but he didn't want this moment potentially ruined, so he stayed quiet.

"I hope this is alright," Derek said as he walked back into the living room.

Stiles sat up, and between the meds and Derek taking his pain, moving didn't hurt anymore.

Derek took the spot beside him, placing a throw pillow on Stiles's lap before handing him the bowl of warm soup.

Stiles's cheeks flushed as he smiled down at the bowl for a second. It looked and smelled delicious. "Did you make this? Like homemade?"

"Yeah. My friend, Erica...she said that chicken noodle soup would be good if you're sick. So she sent me her mom's recipe."

Stiles brought the bowl up and inhaled. His mouth watered immediately, and he wanted to devour it, but he didn't. Instead, he carefully sipped the soup, the savory and salty flavor of the broth rushing over his tongue. A moan slipped free, but he couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed by it because it was seriously so good. And soon, it was all gone—even all the vegetables, which Stiles tended to avoid.

"Do you want more?" Derek asked him, taking the bowl from him when he was done.

Stiles shook his head. He probably could inhale another bowl, but he was starting to feel sleepy again. Derek could probably tell by the way his eyes drooped. "No. At least not right now. And thank you. That was delicious."

"You're welcome," Derek said with a soft smile. "I'm glad you liked it. Next date, we should stay in and I'll cook you dinner."

"That sounds good." And it really did. Probably too good, considering he was already too hopeful that Derek actually liked him more than just a client.

Stiles yawned, too tired to talk himself out of leaning against Derek.

"C'mon." Derek looped an arm around his back. "You'll rest better in your bed. Do you want me to help you there?"

Stiles nodded, relaxing as Derek lifted him up. He pointed down the hall with the intention of telling Derek where his room was but must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Derek was tucking him into bed. With a deep and contented sigh, he reached out, grabbing Derek's hand.

It felt wrong to ask him to stay, especially when Derek was paid to be here. But Stiles also didn't want him to go yet.

"Stay."

Derek ducked his head, and for a moment, Stiles worried that he overstepped, but then Derek kicked off his shoes. He set his phone, wallet, and keys on the nightstand and climbed into bed beside him.

Stiles couldn't help the small smile spreading across his face as Derek draped an arm across his waist, dragging him close. Derek's breath was warm against the back of his neck, and the heavy weight of Derek's arm was comforting despite never having someone in his bed before.

Derek's warmth and presence lulled Stiles to sleep and filled his dreams with all the possibilities of what could be.

"So when do I get to meet this boyfriend of yours?" Lydia asked as they waited in line for popcorn and drinks.

Stiles turned to look at her and couldn't shy away from her green eyes as they bore into him. He groaned internally, hating himself a little for mentioning Derek at all. But he'd needed something to tell Lydia since he wasn't hanging out with her as often. Because duh. She was his best friend, so obviously she noticed when he was suddenly always busy. "He's not my boyfriend."

Lydia raised a perfectly plucked brow, her expression screaming that she knew he was hiding something and wouldn't let him get away with it. She tossed her fiery-red hair over her shoulder. As Stiles followed the movement, he froze at the sight of Derek walking through the entrance of the movie theater.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Stiles moved a little to the left, trying to hide behind the display case that held the candy.

Derek was arm-in-arm with a gorgeous woman. Her blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulder as she laughed at something Derek said. She poked a perfectly manicured nail into Derek's shoulder, a gesture that spoke of familiarity. Especially when Derek snapped his teeth at her.

Was she a friend or…a girlfriend?

She couldn't be a client. They seemed way too comfortable with each other. Then again, Derek was the type of person that could make someone feel like they'd known each other their whole lives. So maybe this person, this gorgeous woman with cherry-red lips, was a client.

Maybe the way Derek treated Stiles wasn't anything special at all?

Stiles's stomach dropped out as he thought about how Derek had cared for him when he was sick. As he thought about their dates since then. How Derek held him close when they walked through the museum, talking about all the exhibits. How Derek had insisted on taking him to the zoo when Stiles said he hadn't been since before his mom had died. How Derek had taken him to the local raceway and let Stiles beat him in go-karts.

How Derek still took his breath away with every kiss at the end of every date.

A wicked pain lanced through his chest, and Stiles wanted to double over. He needed air but also couldn't—wouldn't—dare bring attention to himself right now. So instead, he focused on Lydia.

"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" she asked.

Stiles shook his head, unwilling to talk. Not that he could have if he tried. What would he say anyway? He'd have to explain that the guy he said he was dating was actually paid to do so. Fuck, he should have kept his mouth shut about Derek to begin with.

"I—" Stiles's voice caught in his throat, and he knew she was waiting for an answer, but when he looked up, Derek was staring right at him. His head was cocked to the side, brows furrowed in concern.

"Stiles." Lydia nudged him a little, pushing him forward as the line moved. "Seriously, what is going on with you right now?"

"It's nothing," he finally said, tearing his gaze from Derek and his maybe-date.

Thank God Lydia wasn't the kind of supernatural creature with enhanced senses or she'd call him out on his blatant lie. Actually, she'd call him out anyway because she had the freakish talent of knowing when he was bullshitting.

Stiles glanced back at where he'd seen Derek, but he wasn't there anymore. His date was, except maybe she hadn't been his date because she was leaning against some other guy now. He swallowed thickly, his throat clicking, and chanced a look at Lydia. "It's really nothing."

He turned away, desperately trying to ignore the pain in his chest. Thankfully, it was their turn at the counter, so he ordered their drinks and a large tub of popcorn, but then the hairs on the back of his neck stood before he could pay. A prickly awareness washed over him as a familiar warmth pressed against his back.

"Could you add another large soda to that?" Derek's breath fanned against his neck as he reached past Stiles, handing his card to the concession attendant.

Stiles turned his head, looking over his shoulder. His heart thumped wildly at how close Derek was.

"I… You…" He faltered when he felt the warmth of Derek's hand on his back. What was he doing here?

The attendant rang them out, slid three large cups across the counter, and stepped away to get their popcorn.

Derek gave Stiles a soft smile. "Hi."

Stiles nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Derek was here. Standing next to him. Why?

"You must be Derek," Lydia said, reminding Stiles she was there.

Derek turned to her, though he kept his hand on the small of Stiles's back. "I am. And you must be Lydia. Stiles talks about you all the time."

The attendant returned with their popcorn, interrupting their greetings, and Stiles grabbed the tub, scurrying away. It wasn't often that he didn't know what to say, but he wasn't sure what the fuck was going on right now.

Why was Derek here with them and not with the woman he'd come in with?

Derek quickly caught up to him and gestured to the soda machine. "They don't have Dr. Pepper so what would you like to drink?"

The reminder that Derek knew Stiles's soda preference actually hurt a little. A lot. Why did he have to be so good at his job and make Stiles forget that this was all fake? It was so unfair.

"Pepsi," was all Stiles said before popping popcorn into his mouth. He had to remind himself to chew so he didn't choke.

Derek nodded, his expression filled with concern again as he filled their drinks. When he was done, he handed Stiles his. Stiles accepted it, not realizing that his hand was shaking until he tried to take a sip of his soda and almost spilled it all over himself.

"You okay?" Derek reached out, steadying his hand. "Should I not have come over?"

Before he could answer, Lydia thrust a handful of napkins at him, her eyes bouncing between them as she helped Stiles clean up the small mess he'd made.

"Let me take this," she said, taking the tub of popcorn from him.

Stiles nodded absently, eyes not leaving Derek's. "Sorry, I guess I'm just surprised to see you."

The corners of Derek's lips twitched. "Same. But my pack wanted to see a movie, and we"—he gestured between them—"didn't have anything planned, so I figured why not."

Derek came here with his pack? So that blonde woman wasn't a date?

"Are you seeing the same movie as us?" Lydia asked when Stiles didn't say anything.

Derek chuckled. "I am now."

The adamance in his voice made Stiles laugh, finally breaking him from his melancholy state. "I guess you are."

"But only if you want me here," Derek said, leaning closer and dropping his voice.

Stiles nodded because he absolutely did, despite how awkward it kind of was. So they headed into the theater, quickly finding their seats.

"So what are we seeing?" Derek asked, taking Stiles's hand and threading their fingers together.

Stiles leaned in and whispered, "Spider-Man," as the lights went down and the previews started playing.

Derek nodded as if he'd expected that answer. Which was fair. Stiles had talked about wanting to see it the last time they went out. Derek squeezed his hand lightly, and Stiles couldn't deny the way his heart did somersaults behind his rib cage. Or the way his stomach swooped.

Fake, fake, fake, he reminded himself.

As the movie played, Stiles snuck glances at Derek, smiling at how the light illuminated his handsome face. Derek was mesmerizing as he sat there studying every detail of the movie, and Stiles was helplessly drawn to him.

By the time the movie was over, Stiles didn't even feel bad that he hadn't watched a single second of it, too focused on Derek the entire time. Which sucked because he liked Spider-Man, but he'd just come back another day.

They walked out of the auditorium in silence. Well, Stiles was silent. Derek and Lydia chatted like they were old friends. It was kind of nice. Stiles leaned into Derek as they walked, and though he knew Derek originally hadn't come here for him, he still couldn't help the contentment that washed over him. This felt real. Like they actually belonged here.

Together.

"Did you ride together?" Derek asked as they exited the theater.

Lydia nodded. "I drove us. But if you wouldn't mind, I actually need to run to the store before I head home, so Stiles could use a ride."

Oh, that sneaky bitch. Stiles loved her. And maybe Derek, too, because he insisted on walking Lydia to her car, watching her drive away, before leading Stiles to the Camaro.

As always, Derek opened the passenger door for Stiles. Such a gentleman. And only after they were both seated and buckled did Stiles remember that Derek's pack was at the theater, so he asked, "What about your pack? Did you guys not ride together?"

He'd almost completely forgotten about them. Oops.

"No," Derek told him, pulling out of the parking spot. "Well, Erica rode with me since we were both home. The others came straight from work but met us here, so she can get a ride back with them."

Stiles nodded, looking up at the darkening sky. Way too dark for the time of day it was.

"Looks like it's gonna rain," he said right before thunder rumbled in the distance and raindrops started to fall, taptaptapping against the window.

By the time they arrived at Stiles's house, it was a torrential downpour.

"Should we make a run for it?" Derek asked, turning his car off.

Stiles watched as lightning raced across the sky, followed by thunder that made him jump. "I would say that you don't need to walk me to my door, but maybe you should stay? Wait for the rain to stop before heading home?"

"I'd walk you regardless. But yes, I'll stay." Derek's words were laced with…something. As if he meant more than what he was saying.

Before Stiles could think about it any further, Derek was already outside, racing around the hood of the Camaro. Stiles opened his door and jumped out, slamming it shut behind him. He would apologize for it later, but icy droplets pelted his skin right now, so he ran. Derek was right beside him, splashing through the puddles on the walkway as they ran for the house. They were utterly and completely drenched to the bones when they crashed through the front door, laughing as they collapsed against it.

"Fuck. We should get out of these wet clothes," Stiles said, panting for breath as his teeth chattered. Some days he was sure his house was trying to freeze him to death. He had one of those smart thermostats and it would randomly turn the temperature down on him.

Derek nodded, his eyes flaring with heat. "Yeah, we should."

Stiles shuddered at the intensity of his gaze. It was as if Derek were devouring his body without even touching him. Stiles's nipples tightened, and his cock grew hard. Shit. He couldn't go there, so Stiles ducked his head, breaking the spell. "Alright. C'mon. I'll get you some dry clothes."

"Yeah," Derek seemed to shake himself out of his trance, too. "That'd be great."

Stiles nodded before leading Derek to his room. Inside, he turned on the bedroom light before grabbing sweatpants and a T-shirt from his dresser that he thought might fit Derek.

"Here you go," he said as the thunder and lightning outside echoed through the house. Crap, he hoped the batteries in his flashlights weren't dead in case the power went out. "You can change in the bathroom."

Derek smiled as he took the clothes. He looked so good standing there, dripping wet—his clothes clinging to him like a second skin. "Thanks."

Stiles nodded as Derek walked away. He noticed that Derek didn't bother to close the bathroom door behind himself. The light came on, and Stiles watched as Derek stripped off his shirt, muscles rippling. There was a large tattoo on his back, some type of symbol that Stiles wanted to trace with his tongue. He should look away. He should find some clothes for himself and change before Derek came back out.

Instead, he stood there, transfixed, as Derek undid the button on his pants. Heat rushed through him as he met Derek's gaze in the mirror. Stiles swallowed, uncomfortably aware that he was standing there ogling Derek like a creep. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Then Derek did the unexpected: he spun around and closed the distance between them until he was right in front of Stiles. Until Stiles could feel the heat radiating off Derek's body. Could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"Stiles," Derek said, his voice a deep rumble of warning. His pants hung dangerously low on his hips, showing off that delicious V-cut and coarse hair that dipped below the band of his boxer briefs.

Stiles held his breath, knowing he should move. That he should do something. Say something. But he was powerless, his body responding to Derek's without conscious thought.

Derek cradled his neck with one hand, caressing his skin with his palm. Stiles arched into his calloused touch and closed his eyes. Everything felt so much better with Derek so close.

"Look at me." Derek's thumb rubbed over Stiles's Adam's apple. "Please."

Stiles opened his eyes, unprepared for the sight of Derek's eyes. They were crimson, and his pupils were blown so wide that there was barely a hint of red left.

"Tell me you want this," Derek whispered, and Stiles knew he should say no. Not only because this was his first time, but if they went there, it changed things. Didn't it? This wouldn't be fake anymore. It couldn't. Not to Stiles. And it might break him if this didn't mean as much to Derek as it did to him.

But the words wouldn't come. All Stiles could do was stand there and breathe in Derek's scent.

Derek leaned in, his lips hovering just above Stiles's. "Tell me you want this."

"Yes." Stiles nodded, his heart racing. "I want this."

His words were followed by a clap of thunder and, with it, the slow burn of electricity arcing between them. Derek's mouth descended onto his, and Stiles parted his lips, welcoming Derek's tongue with a low groan. Sparks of pleasure surged through him as Derek's tongue explored every inch of his mouth.

Sweet mother of all that was holy; there was nothing better than kissing Derek. No one could tell him otherwise. Not to mention that Stiles's cock was practically burning a hole in the front of his pants, trying to escape. Why was he still wearing clothes?

Off. He needed them off—now. Stiles needed neither of them to be wearing clothes anymore because all he wanted was Derek's warm body pressing against his own with nothing in between.

"Derek," Stiles breathed when Derek broke the kiss.

Derek's lips trailed down Stiles's neck, and Stiles moaned at the sting of Derek's fangs nipping gently at the crook of his neck.

"Derek," Stiles breathed again, tilting his head back in encouragement as he humped against Derek's leg. Yes, he was that desperate for any little bit of friction.

Derek walked him backward, gripping the hem of Stiles's shirt and drawing it over his head. He tossed it to the side, and it landed on the ground with a wet plop. Then came his jeans, which were a little more difficult, but by the time Stiles fell back on his bed, he was naked.

Stiles scooted back on the mattress, watching as Derek shoved down his own pants and underwear, and then he was naked too.

Gloriously and deliciously naked.

The mattress dipped as Derek climbed onto the bed. He straddled Stiles's hips, and Stiles let out a low, guttural groan when Derek grabbed both of his hands and held them above his head before fastening his mouth onto Stiles's once again.

Apparently, Stiles wasn't the only one out of control.

Derek's lips were soft and inviting, a contrast to his need, which was demanding and hard. Not that Stiles minded at all. He had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was that he wanted moremoremore. So he lifted his hips, seeking friction, and as Derek ground down against him, Stiles could feel every ridge and contour of his body. Of his cock.

Their kiss deepened, and the sensations grew more intense, washing through Stiles like waves. Derek's mouth left his to trail slow, hard kisses along Stiles's jaw, kisses that felt desperate but also like he was trying to hold back. Stiles whined, arching his back. Derek met his gaze. The intensity of it grabbed Stiles's breath. It was a look of pure desire, making Stiles feel alive. It made him aware of every touch and taste of Derek, of his body. His scent.

Derek's lips explored him, and Stiles allowed it, all the while stifling his groans. His desperation. Derek was killing him in the best way, especially when he ran his fingers across Stiles's nipples. Derek leaned forward but not to lick his nipple as Stiles thought he would. Instead, Derek placed his mouth over Stiles's nipple and sucked. He sucked the tight bud into his mouth—hard—teeth nipping into Stiles's flesh. Stiles plunged his hands into Derek's hair, panting as he squirmed against the assault.

Who knew his nipples were so sensitive? Certainly not him.

Stiles closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the mattress, letting out a sound that was unintelligible even to himself. This was torture. Sweet, sweet torture and Stiles wanted more. He clamped his mouth shut as Derek slid further down his body.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Lightning rods zapped up Stiles's legs as Derek's breath ghosted over his cock. It twitched, begging for attention, but Derek didn't stop there. Instead, he moved even further down, kissing Stiles's legs and thighs. Which was somehow even more erotic since it tickled his skin and made every hair stand on end.

"Turn over," Derek said, his voice low and rough.

Stiles quickly complied, flailing as he flipped over. He'd be embarrassed, except he was sure Derek would appreciate his enthusiasm. And then Stiles was on his stomach, breathing heavily as he waited for Derek to do something. Anything.

He gasped when Derek pulled his cheeks apart, and Stiles held his breath.

One second. Two seconds. Three—

Stiles inhaled sharply as Derek lifted his hips, pressed his face between Stiles's legs, and licked his hole. Holy shit.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Especially when Derek's tongue slid inside.

Was this supposed to feel this good? Shouldn't he feel embarrassed about having someone licking his asshole? He wasn't. He couldn't be when it felt so good. In fact, Stiles spread his legs even wider, arching his back as he silently begged for more. Derek apparently knew exactly what Stiles wanted because he thrust his tongue inside again, doing little swirls and licks as he worked Stiles's sensitive nerves.

Stiles was wild with need, and it took all of his willpower not to hump the bed. He gripped the sheets as the pleasure built. And built and built and built. And Derek moaned against him, sounding as if he was enjoying himself just as much.

"Lube?" Derek muttered against him, as if he couldn't bring himself to pull away for even a second.

Stiles swatted a hand out, flailing around to reach the nightstand. He flung the drawer open so hard that its contents spilled to the floor when it slid out. The bed shifted as Derek leaned over the side, and then the lube was tossed onto the mattress beside Stiles. The telltale sound of the lube cap opening made Stiles's dick leak like some kind of Pavlovian response, and then Derek's finger was there, rubbing against his hole.

"Have you ever touched yourself here?" Derek asked, his voice husky with desire.

"Y-yeah." Stiles ran his tongue over his lower lip before raking it with his teeth. "I-I imagined it was you."

Derek groaned, biting Stiles's ass cheek. "Did you like it?"

"God, yes," he hissed just as Derek pushed his finger in. It was so much better than when Stiles fingered himself. It was even better than his dildo. As he relaxed—moaning and mumbling incoherently—Derek added a second finger and eventually a third, rubbing against Stiles's prostate with every skilled thrust of his hand. Derek worked him open with strong fingers, pressing open-mouth kisses on the swell of Stiles's ass.

"Oh, fuck." Stiles knew Derek could sense his desperation. That he wanted more. Needed it.

When Derek removed his fingers, Stiles let out an unmanly whimper. He tried to cover it with a grunt, but Derek chuckled.

"One second." Derek caressed his back before pulling away, and Stiles immediately missed his touch.

He looked over his shoulder, frowning when Derek got off the bed and marched to the bathroom, though now Stiles had a great view of his back, ass, and muscular thighs. "What are you doing?"

"Getting a condom," Derek said, bending over and digging in his pants pocket.

"Do we need one?" Stiles knew that werewolves didn't carry diseases, and if they were doing this, then Stiles wanted to feel all of him. No barriers.

The cords of muscle on Derek's back, shoulders, and arms shifted as he stood. Stiles wanted to nibble on them. He also wanted to run his fingers through the coarse hair on Derek's chest, across Derek's stomach, and through the patch of hair just below his navel.

When Derek faced him again, Stiles's mouth went dry because holy fucking shit. Derek's dick was huge. It was long and thick and uncut and mouthwateringly perfect, but how the fuck it was supposed to fit inside him?

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it as it bobbed in the air. Stiles kind of wanted to pout, but before he could, Derek was there, hovering over him. The heat of his body was as calming and comforting as it was intimidating with the reality of what was about to happen crashing over him. But then Derek cradled his face and kissed him as he lazily rocked against him, that monster cock sliding against his hole.

The kiss was hungry but soft. Demanding yet gentle. Stiles knew deep down that he'd already fallen hard for Derek, and even though he knew the chances of Derek being there to catch him were slim to none, he didn't care anymore. Not right now.

He wanted this. Needed it.

Stiles's breath hitched when Derek pulled away, and he groaned when Derek kissed the small of his back. His heart couldn't take such an intimate gesture.

"Are you ready?" Derek asked breathlessly, and Stiles heard the lube cap pop open again.

All he could do was nod. He bit his bottom lip and tried not to tense when he felt the much-too-large blunt head of Derek's cock against his hole. Forget about catching his breath—Stiles forgot how to breathe entirely. He fisted the sheets with one hand while slamming the other against the headboard as Derek slowly pushed in.

A bright sting of pain blended with an intense pressure that carried the promise of pleasure beneath it. It was overwhelming.

"I'll go slow," Derek promised, pressing kisses against the back of Stiles's neck. And though that was probably supposed to be comforting, Stiles couldn't help but tense up. "I need you to relax, or it'll hurt."

Stiles nodded, blowing out a breath as he tried to relax. "How far in are you?"

"Just the tip." Derek didn't push in any further. Instead, he started massaging Stiles's ass and lower back, and Stiles could tell Derek was taking his pain. He sucked in a breath as Derek squirted more lube into his crease, and it worked enough for Derek to slide in a bit more.

Derek groaned, and the sound went straight to Stiles's cock. The poor thing was so fucking confused right now. It didn't know whether to be turned on or go flaccid when the sting of the stretch made Stiles's arousal waver. Derek was so much bigger than his fingers or even the one dildo Stiles had purchased, but he knew it would be worth it as soon as—

"Oh, fuck!" Stiles cried out as Derek's cock brushed against his prostate. His chest rose and fell in shallow pants. His face and skin burned as he dropped his head, biting his bottom lip. His ass still ached a little, but this time it was an exquisite agony that made his cock throb and leak all over his sheets. "Fucking…shit…fuckfuck."

Stiles would worry about what the neighbors could hear if it weren't for the thunderstorm. God, he really hoped the thunderstorm drowned out his moans. Who would have guessed he could be so loud?

"You have no idea how good you look right now," Derek said with a throaty growl. "Does it still hurt?"

Yes, but Stiles shook his head vigorously. "Fuck no. I want more."

Derek rolled his hips in small, shallow thrusts, and that stretch and burn quickly gave way to how perfectly filled Stiles felt when Derek was finally fully seated. His hole probably looked obscene stretched around Derek's cock. When Derek tested out a bigger thrust, it was so fucking good. Heat built inside of Stiles as Derek picked up the pace, and then Derek shifted a little, tilting Stiles's hips. When he pushed back in, Stiles's entire body lit up like the fourth of July.

It was too much.

It wasn't enough.

Derek clutched his hips. Hard. His nails dug half-moons into Stiles's skin, and God, Stiles hoped they left bruises. He wanted Derek's marks all over him. The bed creaked as they rocked in perfect rhythm, punctuated by Derek's growls, repeating the same word over and over again.

Mineminemine.

"Yes!" Stiles cried out in answer.

Derek's cock dragged against that spot inside Stiles that sent small shocks of intense pleasure throughout his body again and again. His toes curled and his balls drew up tight as Derek reached around him, stroking Stiles's cock in time with his thrusts, which grew frantic and needy.

Stiles's whole body was on the precipice of euphoria until he finally let go, his body tightening and giving in simultaneously as his orgasm shot through him.

Derek turned his head, finding Stiles's lips and kissing him, hot and insistent. This was it. No one else would ever compare to Derek or this moment, and Stiles couldn't help but moan into Derek's mouth when his hole stretched even more as Derek's knot swelled. It caught on his rim a few times before Derek couldn't pull out anymore.

"So perfect. You look so good on my knot. Made for it. Made for me." Derek growled, grinding against him until Stiles shouted his name, somehow coming again.

It was everything he ever wanted but also more than he could ever dream of. So good, so perfect, and he felt amazing—panting hard and completely out of breath while his whole body tingled with pleasure.

"Mine," Derek said again, shuddering above him as he came, his cock pulsing, before collapsing against Stiles's back.

I'm all yours, Stiles wished he could say, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. It would be admitting way too much now that his mind was clearing.

Unable to support both their weights after such an intense orgasm, Stiles fell in a heap onto the mattress. Right into the wet spot under him, but Stiles didn't care. Not when his entire body was buzzing.

Derek maneuvered them to their sides and ran his hand down Stiles's side. His voice was quiet as he asked, "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Stiles shook his head. "I mean, I'm a little sore, but that was…" Indescribable. Incredible. He honestly never realized it would be like this. That a moment could be so perfect.

"So it was good?"

It was strange hearing something that sounded like uncertainty coming from Derek, who always seemed so sure of himself.

"So good," Stiles assured him. "Better than good. Seriously, ten out of ten, would do again. I'd high-five you, but I can't feel my arms. I'm not even sure I can feel my face."

Derek's huff of laughter against the back of his neck made Stiles shudder. "You're ridiculous sometimes."

"I know. But yes, being completely serious. That was amazing," Stiles said, even though he was a mess right now, all sticky and sweaty. He clenched automatically as he pictured his hole stretched over Derek's knot, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Derek made a pained sound and gripped Stiles's hips to still him. "Keep doing that and my knot won't go down any time soon."

"How long until it does?" Stiles asked, relaxing against Derek's chest.

Derek kissed his shoulder as he hugged Stiles close. "I'm not sure. I've never knotted anyone before."

"Never?" Stiles's eyes widened in surprise. There was no way that Derek had never knotted anyone before. Why wouldn't he? Stiles had heard stories that made it sound like the best thing ever—that sex was so much better because of it. "Really?"

Derek nodded against the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I probably should have asked first, but it just felt right with you. Magical. I don't really know how to explain it. I just know that you're mine."

Derek's words made him feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside—and so incredibly special. He couldn't help but believe him.

"Yours," Stiles said, closing his eyes and leaning into Derek's embrace, which felt too good. He wanted to stay in Derek's arms forever, though he still had plenty of questions about what had just happened and what Derek had said. But they would have to wait. For now, he wanted to just enjoy this moment. Though it didn't take long before Stiles felt his consciousness begin to slip.

"Tired," he murmured, and Derek kissed the back of his head.

"Go ahead and sleep. I'll clean us up once my knot goes down."

Stiles nodded, or at least, he thought he did as Derek's steady breathing and heartbeat lulled him into a deep sleep.

As he closed his eyes, Stiles couldn't help but wonder if this was what love felt like. But that thought was quickly forgotten as sleep overtook him, and his mind drifted into pleasant dreams of him and Derek and their future.

Stiles woke up achingly hard—not an uncommon occurrence since meeting Derek. However, the ache in his ass was uncommon. Though it was a pleasant ache. A satisfying reminder of last night. The thought of Derek's knot made Stiles's cock throb and his hole clench. He ground against the mattress, moaning into his pillow at the friction.

An arm tightened around his waist, and a gruff voice growled in his ear, "God, you smell so good."

Part of Stiles had been worried he'd wake up to an empty bed. That Derek would have taken off in the middle of the night. Sure, Derek had practically claimed him last night. Had said Stiles was his, but it could have been said in the heat of the moment. They were knotted together, after all. Stiles wouldn't have held it against him, so needless to say, it was a pleasant surprise that Derek was still there, pressed against him.

Lust spiked through Stiles's body and he turned in Derek's arms, brushing his fingers over Derek's cheeks and neck, just taking a moment to study him. Sunlight trickled in through the curtains, casting a golden glow over Derek's face. His eyes were still shut, black lashes framing his sharp cheekbones. God, he was so beautiful.

Stiles trailed his fingers down Derek's neck and chest to his hip, smirking when Derek's dick twitched. His breath quickened as his chest filled with nervous excitement when he grabbed the lube that was still beside him, squirting some into his palm. His own cock jumped in anticipation as he wrapped his hand around Derek's.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, his voice rough with sleep. When he finally opened his eyes, they bore through Stiles with an intensity that stole his breath.

"I didn't really get to touch you last night," Stiles whispered, staring between them as Derek bucked into his fist.

Derek chuckled, the vibration of it humming through Stiles's body. He gripped Stiles's ass and rolled to his back, pulling Stiles over him until their chests were flush.

Warmth pooled in Stiles's belly as Derek leaned up, running his tongue along Stiles's bottom lip, igniting the fire already raging between them.

Derek drew back, their lips still brushing, and murmured, "Why don't you let me take care of you."

Though Stiles had wanted to take care of Derek, to bring him pleasure, he whispered, "Yes," without hesitation.

Derek leaned in again, caressing Stiles's tongue with gentle strokes. Stiles soared, lost in the heat and emotion between them. When Derek pulled back, his eyes were shining with what Stiles thought might be love. His heart tripped over itself.

Could this be real?

Derek brushed his lips against Stiles's forehead, leaving a soft, tender kiss.

"I've got you," he said, lining up their cocks and wrapping a hand around both of them, giving Stiles that sweet, delicious friction that made him tremble.

Stiles's heart pounded as they rocked together, and the room filled with moans and heavy breathing.

"I-I really wanna suck you off," he panted when Derek twisted his wrist. Stiles wasn't sure why or how he was talking, considering he couldn't even think right now. Not when the pressure teetered on the edge of pleasure-pain.

Derek pulled Stiles in by the back of his neck with his other hand, kissing him again. "Next time."

As they kissed, Stiles ran his fingers along Derek's neck with a featherlight touch, writhing when Derek trailed his fingers down his back.

"Oh, fu—" Stiles started, but Derek swallowed his groan with a passionate sweep of his tongue. More ridiculous sounds rose from his throat, escaping in the form of whimpers and moans that would be downright embarrassing if he cared at all. But how could he when—

"I love the sounds you make," Derek said, panting when he broke the kiss.

And Stiles wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out. It felt too good. His body was like a live wire—all coiled, sparking energy. But surprisingly, it wasn't Stiles who snapped first.

Derek's body went taut, and his curses filled the room. A tendon stood out on the side of his neck that Stiles wanted to nibble on. Fuck, Derek looked so good when he came. There was something about the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head before setting a hard glare at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him that really turned Stiles on.

He kept thrusting, digging his fingers into Derek's shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he chased his own release.

"Come on, Stiles," Derek urged, tightening his grip on Stiles's cock. "Let me see you come."

The order sent shockwaves through Stiles, and he jerked forward. With his head thrown back, Stiles cried out Derek's name as his dick pulsed rhythmically between them.

"God, you feel so good," Derek mumbled against his shoulder when Stiles collapsed against him, boneless and content.

Stiles smiled softly, still panting as he nodded. Words were lost to him, and all he could do was hum his approval of a great orgasm as his nerve endings tingled and his body twitched. Goosebumps erupted along his skin at every puff of Derek's breath against the side of his neck.

"Well, that was the best way to wake up," Derek said, panting. "What did you say last night? Ten of ten, would do again?"

Stiles snorted, falling to the side but tangling their legs together. He could stay wrapped up in Derek for days. For forever. "Absolutely."

Before Derek could wipe his hand off on the sheets or get up to clean himself, Stiles grabbed it and brought it up to his mouth. He flushed as he licked a stripe up Derek's palm. "Mmm…not as bad as I'd thought it'd be."

"Jesus Christ." Derek growled before crushing their lips together again. "You have no idea," he muttered against Stiles's lips, "how incredible you are. I don't know how I was lucky enough to find you. That I get to have you."

There it was again. Those words.

Stiles sighed and pressed their foreheads together. His heart beat erratically as he asked, "So this is real? You really want me?"

"I meant what I said last night." Derek pulled back and tilted Stiles's chin up with two fingers, searching his eyes. His lips curved into a slow, gentle smile. "You're mine, Stiles. I want to be with you. For real."

Stiles shivered at Derek's words. So what Derek had said last night hadn't been a fluke. It wasn't just a declaration in the heat of the moment. Derek really wanted him. Wanted them to be together. Stiles's heart felt like it was about to burst with happiness. He trailed featherlight kisses against Derek's skin and closed his eyes, feeling like nothing could touch this moment.

No fear, no doubts. Just them. Together.

"I want you, too. I'm yours," Stiles whispered, and Derek exhaled, nodding before dropping his forehead to Stiles's shoulder. Stiles ran his hands through Derek's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and they stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime, yet still wasn't long enough.

(Epilogue)

"Happy anniversary," Derek said, rubbing his cheek against the top of Stiles's head as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. They were on the cliffside at lookout point again. Their spot, as Derek liked to call it. Like a slow explosion, red, orange, and yellow radiated across the sky, fading out as it turned purple-blue.

Stiles smiled. "Anniversary?"

As far as he knew, their anniversary wasn't for a few weeks. It had been just over a year since he'd found Derek's website. Since they met and had their first fake date. Some days he still couldn't believe how things had worked out. It had never been part of Stiles's plan to get a rental boyfriend just to experience a first date. Nor had it been part of his plan to stumble upon Derek's page and hire him for a few hours every week. And Stiles definitely hadn't meant to actually start falling for the guy.

But he had, and he didn't regret a single second of it.

"This was our first date," Derek whispered, taking Stiles's hand.

Stiles pulled back and tilted his head to look at Derek, raising a brow in question. "Babe…our anniversary is in three weeks."

"Babe…" It was so quiet here that Derek's voice carried on the wind. "Today is one year since our first date."

"I mean, if you wanna get technical about it, the anniversary of our first date was like a week ago, but I don't count that. And our first official date was to that diner the morning after we first slept together."

"I don't count either of those as our first date," Derek told him, a smile on his stupidly handsome face. It made his eyes crinkle in the corners and his dimples pop. "One year ago today, I brought you up here for our first real date."

Stiles thought back, and sure enough, coming to lookout point had been the first date Derek had planned for them. Granted, it was while Stiles had been paying him; then again, Derek had also reversed all those charges. Every single last one of them. Derek said taking Stiles's money felt wrong when it had never been a job for him. When it had always felt like more.

"That was the night you kissed me." Stiles smiled at the memory.

Derek nodded. "I liked you, Stiles. A lot. From the moment we met, I knew that you were special. I wanted you. This." He gestured between them. "Which was why I asked if I could plan that date."

A warmth spread through Stiles's chest as it always did whenever Derek talked about his feelings for him. He blinked away the sting of happy tears and looked back out at the view, sighing in contentment. "Alright then, happy anniversary."

Derek squeezed his hand in response.

The wind blew around them, bringing with it a little bit of coolness as the night grew darker, but Stiles wanted to stay in this moment forever.

Derek kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I've been thinking…"

There was something in the way he said it that had Stiles's heart skipping a beat in anticipation, excitement, and suspense. His brows knit together in curiosity. "You have? About what?"

Derek was silent for a few moments, watching as the stars appeared in the sky. And then he pressed something into Stiles's palm and said, "I love you. I think I fell in love with you the moment we met, and I fall in love with you more and more each day."

Stiles turned his hand over and gasped as he stared down at the matte black band embedded with six sparkling diamonds. His heart thumpthumpthumped wildly, a staccato rhythm he knew Derek could hear.

"I love you, too. Derek, I…" Stiles met his gaze and swallowed hard as his emotions threatened to choke him. They'd talked about marriage a few times; of course, they had. It was something they both wanted. In fact, Stiles often joked about proposing and making a big production out of it, but really this was perfect. Just him and Derek at their spot, watching the sunset.

Derek pulled him in by the back of his neck and kissed him softly. When he broke the kiss, he pressed their foreheads together. His breath fanned across Stiles's face as he asked, "Will you marry me?"

Tears pooled in Stiles's eyes. He held Derek's gaze and, without a beat of hesitation, answered, "Yes."

A beautiful smile split Derek's handsome face, and for a few moments, they just looked at each other as they took in the enormity of what had just happened. They just got engaged. Derek was his fiancé and they were going to get married!

Derek leaned in to kiss him again and Stiles melted. The kiss was gentle and sweet and lingered with the promise of a beautiful future.

When they finally broke apart, Stiles giggled—an actual fucking school girl-type giggle. He was happier and lighter than he ever thought possible. "We're engaged."

Derek's lips quirked up. "We are." He pulled Stiles in for a hug and whispered into his ear, "You make me so happy, Stiles."

And that was the moment Stiles knew, without a doubt, that he was the luckiest guy in the world.

The sky was nearly black now, with the stars shining brightly and the moon casting an almost ethereal glow over the night. Stiles reached up, wiping the tears from his eyes, and took one final look around.

This place. This moment. It was perfection, and Stiles would hold it in his heart forever.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #summer 2023 sterek exchange #thesterekexchange #sterek exchange #eternalsterek #sterek event #holy shit i wrote something

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