Chapter Text
Of course Derek can hear Stiles’ Roscoe - a distinctive engine sound if there ever was one - pull into the parking garage of their DC apartment downstairs, even from here. He loses him once Stiles gets out of the car, but he hears the sound of the elevator whirring, and then the doors open and he can hear his mate’s heartbeat in the hallway, safe and sound.
He hears all that, so really, when he doesn’t clean up the papers around him, it’s his fault. Like maybe Derek’s wolf wanted Stiles to catch him, to catch what Derek had been doing.
Stiles looks tired, dropping his laptop bag by the door and closing and locking it firmly behind him. So then Derek forgets about the papers, pulling Stiles over by his hand and down into his lap, scenting his neck to make him smell of pack again, and not of Capitol Hill and all the other lobbyists.
Stiles nuzzles against his stubble, letting out a pleased little hum as he relaxes into Derek’s arms. “And how was your day?” he mumbles, his arms coming to wrap around Derek’s neck.
“McCall wanted to show us all off, so we spent the morning on the training grounds being put to our paces by a bunch of the top brass.”
Stiles makes a little noise of commiseration. “So, what, you’ve got like, one sore muscle?” he teases, making Derek smile.
“Something like that. They sent us home early for our trouble, at least.”
“Think it’ll happen in our lifetime? Wolves in the military...that’s a pretty big, good first step towards Were Equal Rights.”
Derek slides his hands down the back of Stiles’ dress shirt, then pulls it up out of his slacks so he can feel skin. “I guess we both just keeping working on it any way we can, right?”
Stiles sighs, laying his head on Derek’s chest so Derek can tuck his chin in Stiles’ hair. It’s one of Derek’s favorite positions, their scents mingling, Stiles safe in his arms. He lets his eyes close, the wolf inside him rumbling with happiness.
When Stiles stiffens, though, Derek’s jerked back to full alertness, looking for whatever the danger must be, here in their inner sanctum. His threat assessment brings up nothing, but when he looks at Stiles’ face, he reddens, realizing exactly what Stiles saw.
He watches Stiles reach out for the papers on the coffee table, curious. They’re housing listings, Derek knows, of course, listings with lots of acreage, out in the more rural parts of Virginia and Maryland.
Stiles looks back at Derek, and Derek can feel his cheeks flush. “I was just- I wasn’t planning on like, surprising you guys with property or anything. Everyone gets a say. It’s- it’d be a commute for all of us, I know, but Erica and Boyd have been talking more seriously about having kids, and it’s- it’s probably just stupid Alpha instincts that I should just shut down but-”
Stiles holds up his finger to Derek’s lips, silencing him with a wry smile. “This is what I sound like, like, 90 percent of the time, huh?”
Derek relaxes marginally, letting his lips tip up. “Make that 95 percent.”
Stiles laughs good-naturedly, then leans forward to brush their lips together. “Where’s this coming from? Did I-”
Derek shakes his head quickly. “No, no. I’m all in my own head about this, believe me.”
Stiles’ eyes soften, and he kisses Derek more thoroughly. “Did one of those military humans today say something about your Alpha instincts?”
“It was...implied by one of the generals that it made sense to put Alphas in squad leader positions because of our extra strength yet protective natures.”
“And here you are, wondering if suggesting that we all move to the countryside is too protective, huh?”
Derek lets his forehead rest against Stiles’. “In a nutshell.”
“You said it yourself, Der, sweetheart, you said you were planning on asking us. Not telling us. Sure, you’re protective. Because you’re a good Alpha.”
Inside him, Derek’s wolf preens.
Stiles settles back into Derek’s lap, making himself comfortable, bringing the pile of listings with him. “Tell me about them. Tell me what you’re leaning toward, what you’re planning on proposing to the pack.”
“You don’t think it’s a terrible idea? The commute-”
“Sure, but we could commute together, at least most of the way. Just think, a bunch of extra us time. And I grew up in a place like these. Beacon Hills has this big nature preserve - it’s perfect for Scott’s pack - and I know running the Mall, while you guys get total Captain America-Falcon points, isn’t as good as the real great outdoors.” Stiles kisses him on the cheek. “So no, I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.”
Derek’s preening wolf is practically drooling with happiness now.
His dick isn’t far behind, either.
“Oh?” Stiles’ voice is full of a different kind of interest all of a sudden, as he moves his hips to rub them together.
His mate on his lap, happy with his Alpha, Derek’s mind focuses in on a single, sudden want. He pulls Stiles down for another kiss, hotter this time, filthier, but then he releases Stiles and sits back on the couch. Stiles’ eyebrows quirk in question as he watches Derek slowly, deliberately tilt his head and offer his neck to Stiles in submission. Stiles’ eyes widen, his fingers reaching out, seemingly involuntarily, to trace over Derek’s skin.
Stiles, though, his never-to-be-underestimated intelligent mate, catches on quickly. He leans in, scraping teeth over where Derek’s pulse is beating wildly. “Such a good, good Alpha deserves the best, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
Derek shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin. “Stiles-”
“What do you want, Der? What’s the best? What can I give you?”
The words feel like they’re being drawn from Derek’s soul. Inside, his wolf is howling, cheering him on, telling him that yes, he’s safe, and it’s okay. “Fuck me, please, Stiles, want you to fuck me-”
Stiles groans, capturing Derek’s mouth again, kissing him fiercely. He slides off of Derek’s lap, pulling him up. “C’mon, Der. Let’s go someplace more comfortable.”
Derek can’t find himself fully submissive though, and he lifts Stiles up into his arms, kissing him all the way to the bedroom so that Stiles is panting against him.
Stiles’ eyes are hot and fierce on his. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so good,” he promises. He drops down, pushing Derek - Derek letting himself be pushed - back onto the bed before going to their bedside table for the supplies. “Strip,” he tosses out over his shoulder.
Derek doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling off his shirt, then kicking out of his jeans and boxer briefs while Stiles watches, looking amused. He tosses lube down on the bed, then starts to work on his own buttons, pushing Derek back again when Derek goes to help him.
“I’m not taking another shirt to the dry cleaners for the buttons to be repaired, mister. It’s embarrassing, the way the lady looks at me, all smiling and wink wink, nudge nudge-ing me.”
Derek laughs, stretching out on the bed to watch Stiles’ short striptease. He loves his mate’s body - well, he loves his mate’s everything, but his long, lean body, dotted with moles - it had been made, Derek thinks, for his tongue to worship.
That’s not the plan tonight, though, because Stiles’ eyes are dark and intense on his own as he neatly folds his dress clothes and hangs them over the back of the bedroom chair to be put away later. His cock is hard and red against his stomach as he walks back to Derek, and Derek’s breath catches in his throat.
“How submissive will your wolf let you be?” Stiles asks, sitting beside Derek and stroking a hand over Derek’s hip. “Want to be on your back or front?”
It should probably be unsexy, the explicit talk about positioning. Instead, Derek feels loved, warm, his wolf content to let this happen. With a determined nod, he rolls over, presenting his back and ass to Stiles. He looks over his shoulder, and Stiles is beaming down at him, his hand smoothing over the globes of Derek’s ass now.
“Look good like this, Der. Really good.” He leans in, nipping at the skin on Derek’s hip. “Not going to lie, this has been fueling my fantasies for awhile now. I love getting fucked by you, but this ass…” He sighs, happily, his thumb pressing lightly against Derek’s hole. “You’ve never even played with this, right?”
Derek shakes his head. “Only you. You’ll be my only one.”
Stiles makes a little sound Derek can’t interpret, but then he’s draped over his side, his mouth on Derek’s, his happy scent coming off him in waves. “Love you, Der.”
“I love you,” Derek whispers back. “Now fuck me.”
Stiles laughs. “Still an Alpha, even when you want to be all sweet and submissive. Power bottom, check.”
He moves into a straddle over Derek’s back, his hard cock smearing precum on Derek’s skin as he spreads lotion over his fingers and starts to massage Derek. “Relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Let me make you happy.”
“‘M already happy,” Derek mumbles, as Stiles’ clever fingers work into the knots in his back.
“Shhhhh,” Stiles whispers, and Derek obeys. His eyes close, and he relaxes under Stiles’ ministrations.
It’s why, when he feels the warm - but still colder than lotion - lube drip against his hole, he doesn’t tense up. Stiles has scooted down, his hand pressing against the small of Derek’s back as the tip of his finger begins to work at Derek’s rim. “That’s it. Open right up for me. So sweet.”
Derek feels Stiles’ teeth nip into his ass cheek, definitely not the first time that’s ever happened, even if the rest of this is new. He breathes, slowly and deliberately, trying not to stiffen for Stiles’ finger.
It’s a strange sensation, when Stiles works the tip in, stretching, stretching, stretching. To take Stiles in himself is nothing new - there’s almost nothing he loves better than waking Stiles with a Saturday morning blowjob - but the feeling of lost control, the feeling of no control, it’s already taking Derek’s breath away, and Stiles only has one finger in.
No, make that two, Derek notes clinically, even as his body shakes over the sensation of Stiles’ fingers scissoring inside him. They brush over what must be his prostate, and Derek groans, clutching at the sheets.
“I’ve got you now,” Stiles whispers, sounding amused as he strokes over Derek’s prostate again.
Derek can’t help but fuck back on Stiles’ finger, chasing the sensation. “Give me more,” he begs, hardly recognizing his voice.
“You’ll get more when I say you get more, Der.” Stiles’ voice is stern, and it does all sorts of pleasurably twisty things to Derek’s insides, so he doesn’t call Stiles’ bluff.
Doesn’t want to call Stiles’ bluff when Stiles’ fingers feel so fucking good inside him.
As Stiles methodically stretches him up to take three fingers, Derek doesn’t even realize his claws have popped, and are digging into the flesh of his closely fisted palms, until he sees blood on the sheets. “Shit-”
“I’ve got you,” Stiles murmurs, calm as ever. Sadly, his fingers leave Derek’s hole, making Derek feel sad and empty, and his weight lifts off the bed. He comes back quickly with some heavy duty towels they’d bought just for this type of thing, something for Derek to hold onto and tear into during sex so he’s not tearing apart his own skin - or the mattress, they’d learned after the first time they’d had to purchase a new one.
The cuts on Derek’s palms have already healed by the time Stiles wraps the towels around them. “Have at it, Der. Show me how you fucking feel,” Stiles whispers, hot and aggressive in his ear. Without warning, all three fingers thrust inside him again, and Derek howls into the sheets, his claws gripping at the towels wildly.
He’s not sure how long Stiles tortures him, gliding over his prostate and skating away again just to make Derek’s hips chase. All he knows is that he moans when Stiles’ fingers leave him, and then the blunt head of Stiles’ cock is pressed at his entrance.
“Keep breathing for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re so good, Der. Such a good Alpha.”
The praise makes Derek melt into the mattress again, letting Stiles slowly slip inside him, stretching him out even further.
It’s alien, the feeling of being so full, but not unpleasant, not at all, especially combined with the soft weight of Stiles on his back. He’s surrounded by Stiles, by his scent, by his strength. There’s no place else he’d rather be. “Fuck me, baby, please,” he pleads, unable to stand the tension any longer.
Stiles laughs, and the tension breaks as he slowly withdraws, then fucks into Derek again. “God, you feel so fucking good. So tight. This ass-” One of Stiles’ hands squeezing over his ass cheek, hard enough to bruise, though his werewolf healing doesn’t let the mark stay long. Derek groans, tipping his hips back.
Stiles’ pace is slow and steady, none of the frantic energy that he normally gives off. It’s like now that he has this position of power, he’s going to milk it for every single drop.
And Derek takes it, his wolf howling with happiness every time Stiles slides home and fills him completely. It’s a primal rhythm between mates, one as old as time, and Derek feels as if he’s completing some ancient imperative to bind Stiles to him, bind them as mates forever, in a way they hadn’t yet reached before.
When Stiles spills inside him, he’ll truly belong to Stiles in every way.
He reaches out of the towels, carefully withdrawing his claws and seeking out Stiles’ hand. Stiles stills. “You okay, Derek, sweetie?”
Derek turns his head, and Stiles leans down so they’re face to face. “I love you.”
Stiles looks confused. “I love you, too, babe.”
Derek fights through the pleasurable sex haze that’s fogged over his brain. “If we- I didn’t think, but I can feel it, can’t you?”
“Feel what, Der?”
“If we do this, we’ll be bonded,” Derek manages, Stiles’ cock still in him driving him to distraction.
Stiles continues to hold, though, no longer thrusting. “Like...werewolf married?”
Derek nods. “We don’t have to- you can pull out-”
“Derek,” Stiles says sharply, getting Derek’s hazy attention back on him. “Do you want to?”
Derek’s silent for a moment, then he nods again. “Yeah. Yes. Do you?”
Stiles’ hand slides down to his hip, and he withdraws slowly. Derek moans, already feeling an aching emptiness, but then Stiles thrusts back in, hard, his teeth pressing into Derek’s neck. “Fuck yes.”
Relief floods Derek’s system, echoing with the euphoria of his impending orgasm. He tightens his hands in the towels again as Stiles starts to pound into him possessively, fucking into him, making them one, building their bond. He grips Derek’s hips, holding him steady as he uses his hole.
It crests for Derek, his cock spurting against the sheet below him, making a sticky mess that he can’t give any fucks about. He groans Stiles’ name, melting into the bed, squeezing his ass down around Stiles’ cock and dragging him into orgasm too. Stiles’ cum is hot inside him.
They come down together, a panting, sweaty heap of limbs. Stiles manages to roll them away from the mess, spooning Derek from behind and kissing everywhere he can reach - Derek’s neck, his cheek, below his ear, everywhere.
“So...that happened,” Stiles says eventually, his breath blowing against Derek’s sweaty skin.
“Yes, it did.”
Stiles threads their fingers together. “A good happening, right?”
“About fucking time,” Derek hears through the wall. Erica’s voice. He smiles and turns to look into Stiles’ eyes.
“A really good happening, yeah.” Relaxing, he draws Stiles into a kiss.