Chapter Text
2027.
“It's just one thing after another.”
Stiles exhaled a laugh and scrubbed his hands over his face, the stubble on his jaw scratching at the leather of his gloves. “So we're talking... how big? A dozen? Two?” Danny's brows rose on his forehead, just as Stiles' heart sunk to his feet. “Shit.”
“I did some research,” Danny continued, his own hands rubbing together to conjure up a bit of warmth. The wind was picking up. They were too old to believe in portents anymore, but that didn't take the chill out of the air. “Evidently these guys are really powerful. The pack's old. Like... I'm talking centuries. And I read a few things about witches.”
“Great. An army of all-powerful werewolves with pet witches.” Stiles sighed, boot toeing at the leaves beneath his feet. “Got any bad news?”
Danny grinned despite himself, carving dimples like craters into his face. “You really wanna know?”
“Just... keep an eye on them, and don't do it alone. If they look like they're making a move on us, call me. Immediately.”
“I'll drop in later to give Derek the news.”
Stiles waved him off as he took a step back. “I'll let him down easy. You can't just drop this kind of thing on him and expect it to go well. Keep in touch.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and turned towards the path that cut directly through the Beacon Hills preserve.
Seventeen years. He'd been driving and riding and walking this path for seventeen years. He could find his way up to the Hale house blindfolded. In his sleep. The mindless trip gave him just under fifteen minutes to clear his head. In that time, he had to figure out how to tell Derek about the pack encroaching on his territory. He had to figure out how to tell him to bide his time, how to tell him they were ten times more dangerous than anything they'd faced. He wasn't relishing the job.
Though the fact that he knew about all of this before Derek did gave him some small rush of pride.
Even that didn't distract him from the bad feeling in his guts. There was only so much you could ignore, and a sharp icy pain in your gut was far above his natural threshold of avoidance. Derek's pack was larger now than it ever had been, even when the entire Hale family was alive, but did they have enough to come out of this conflict alive? He wasn't sold.
Breathing out slowly as he took the few steps that led up to the house's front porch, Stiles slipped his hands out of his jacket and opened the front door. The lingering scent of cinnamon and apple as well as a blown out candle hit him the moment he stepped inside, and he rubbed at the upturned tip of his nose as he turned to lock the door behind him.
Erica and her damn candles.
Stiles took the stairs to the second floor without bothering to look around. The great thing about living with a group of wolves was security. If something was wrong, you'd know within a second. The house would've already been a mess; he would have smelled blood, not the cloying, artificial scent of apple pie.
Shrugging his jacket off once he was inside the master bedroom, he shot Derek a half-smile before tossing it over the chair beside the door.
“We've got ourselves a problem.”
Derek let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he dropped his hand back to his side, he began walking toward him.
“What is it this time?” he asked, rubbing his rough hands over Stiles' biceps, chest pressed to his back. “If it's another pack, it might be a blessing. Everyone's getting restless, including me.”
Stiles' face scrunched up before falling, and he shook his head. “Not really a blessing, no. But another pack, yes.” Leaning back against Derek, he licked his lips and began removing his gloves. He dropped them right on top of his jacket. It was evident in his slow speech that he was biding his time, barely hugging the line between revealing the truth as gently as possible and avoiding a topic completely. “It's big. Organized. Danny says they're... South American?”
The werewolf made a quiet noise, nose fitting behind Stiles' ear as he mulled over the information. “We're more powerful than I thought if we're getting the attention of the Nagual.” His arms wrapped around Stiles' waist, hands rubbing over the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “Was bound to happen eventually.”
“You weren't gonna let me in on the fact that we were pissing off werewolves with witches, were you? I mean, this is kind of important information.” Stiles sighed, his fingers curling around Derek's hands. “We should've just stayed small. I get that it's a power thing, but if it kept us from attracting this kind of attention, I wouldn't mind having a wimp for an Alpha.”
Derek let out a huff of laughter, moving away from him with a parting pat on his stomach. “I might believe that if I hadn't seen you in action,” he replied with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest, a thick brow arching. “If Ihadn't pushed to defend ourselves instead of rolling over and submitting, youwould have.”
Stiles turned around to face him, bridging the new gap between them until his hands were laced at Derek's back. “Hey, wishful thinking. I like having all of my limbs. You can't blame me.”
“You'll be fine,” Derek murmured with a small smile curling one corner of his mouth. “You have seventeen werewolves who'd die for you, and they have youto make sure they won't.” He moved in closer, a hand slipping under the hem of Stiles' shirt, fingertips skating across the base of his spine.
“They're just another pack, underestimating us because of what happened to my family. Because I have a human for a mate.” The werewolf kissed his upper lip briefly. “We'll kill them just like we've killed anyone else who threatens us.”
Stiles inhaled, his chest rising until he felt it brush Derek's, and released it through his nose. Slowly, wringing himself free of the clouded air in his lungs until he was forced to take another cleansing breath. “Alright,” he said. “You're right. We've got this.” Pausing, his brows flattened over his eyes. “And you took that so much better than I thought you would. It's kinda hot, actually.”
“My machismo's out in the back yard with Erica's daughter.” Even as he spoke, casual as anything, Derek was pulling Stiles' shirt over his head, lips finding his collarbone quickly. “Still,” he continued, words skimming over pale skin, “we shouldn't wait for them to come to us.” His mouth traveled upward, seeking the thrumming pulse as he always did.
Derek's tongue passed over the flesh. “We have the element of surprise. It's time to take advantage of it.”
Stiles' fingers curled under the hem of Derek's shirt, lingering there for a long moment before returning the favor. He tossed the garment aside and wrapped his arms around his middle. His eyes fell shut when he felt Derek's lips at his throat again, replaced just as quickly as he'd been pulled away. Their movements had long since grown together. If one of them bent in one direction, the other bent to meet him. They just knew where to move, where to touch, where to kiss in order to pour as much into any given time. And that worked for them.
Letting out a quiet mm under his breath, Stiles' fingertips pressed against the warm flesh of Derek's back. “Did I say kind of hot? I meant really hot.”
“You're no help when you're horny,” Derek muttered with a chuckle as he pulled Stiles' belt from his jeans, dropping it to the wooden floor with a thunk. It didn't take long for the human's jeans to be pooled around his ankles as well. “You'd think after all this time, you would've learned how to multi-task.”
“I know how to multi-task.” Stiles' thumb pressed against the button of Derek's jeans before running over the tender flesh above it. “Just not that kind of multi-task.”
Taking a step back and blinking to clear his head, Stiles sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his jeans. He began working on the laces of his boots, eyes trained on the floor instead of on Derek. “So we hit them as soon as possible. We call a family meeting tomorrow, tell them to meet here. Figure out what we're gonna do then.” Pulling off one boot with a grunt, he dropped it next to Derek's shirt. Once that was settled, he looked up at Derek with a hint of a grin. “Until then, we can't really do anything. No help when I'm horny, my ass.”
Derek grinned right back as he was tugging off his own boots. “See? Now I can focus on getting you off.”
Once both boots were off along with his jeans and socks, the werewolf knelt between Stiles' legs, planting wet kisses along the soft contours of his abdominal muscles. “Think we should call Jackson out?” His fingers curled under the hem of his boyfriend's underwear, tugging them down around his thighs.
The heat of Derek's mouth enveloped Stiles' cock before he could even get an answer out, broad strokes of an eager tongue rolling his member against the roof of Derek's mouth. He made a low noise, sucking even harder as the taste of his lover sparked immediate muscle memory.
Stiles' hands slid into Derek's hair, but instead of guiding him away to focus, he shifted forward, closer to the edge of the bed. “Nnh, you – you can't ask questions and then do that,” he muttered, chin tilting upwards as his head fell back. If there was one sensation he'd never get used to, it was the wet, hot inside of Derek's mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, we'll call Ja-ackson – fuck, that's good.”
There was another noise, louder this time, partial acknowledgment, but mostly a reaction to the feeling of Stiles' cock hardening in his mouth. Derek worked forward, bobbing his head further and further along until he could comfortably press his nose to Stiles' stomach, cheeks caving in as he pulled back.
When their eyes met, Derek's flashed red, shutting soon after as he closed his large hand around his own cock, pumping it languidly in his boxer briefs.
Stiles sighed another curse, his fingers tightening in Derek's hair for only a moment before he let go, hands planting on the sides of his face instead. “C'mon,” he said, voice tight in the struggle to keep from moaning. Once the slurred word was out of his mouth, he failed to keep quiet any longer, the heat spreading over the inside of his thighs and up into his stomach prompting a groan through gritted teeth. Stiles swallowed hard, moving to grip at Derek's shoulders instead of his face, squeezing just hard enough to get his attention. “Mmgod, get up here.”
Derek kept sucking for a moment longer, only letting up when he was rewarded by a noise born more of frustration than arousal from the other man. Once satisfied, he stood watching as Stiles wriggled his way back until he was sitting up against their pillow collection that had only grown over the years.
Stiles was still kicking off his own underwear by the time Derek climbed onto his lap, half hard, body already feeling superheated. He scooted forward until their cocks met, rubbing against each other and along abdomens, causing Derek to bite his lip through a moan.
Leaning off to the side, he grabbed hold of a pale blue bottle, pouring some in his own hand before passing it over to Stiles. Rising up on his knees, Derek reached behind him, grabbing hold of Stiles' cock and stroking it, coating his length in the silky liquid.
Pouring some of the lube onto his fingers, Stiles watched Derek as he rubbed them together, his other hand shutting the bottle and reaching over to set it on the bedside table. He sat up, drawing himself close and closer to the man straddling him. His lips pressed against his chest as his hand slipped around, index teasing the ring of muscle for only a moment before pressing inwards.
His mouth moved up to Derek's shoulder as he began pumping his finger in and out, slow as anything. There was no need to murmur for Derek to relax. He was already relaxed, and it wouldn't take long for him to be ready. Stiles just liked making sure.
“Missed you today,” Stiles said, his voice only growing threadier when he felt Derek's hand grip him tighter, when he felt Derek's wrist twist. “Hn, yeeah. Definitely missed you.”
The kiss that Derek gave him was tender, laced with a smile despite the huskiness of his voice. “Have to keep the kids in shape,” he murmured, bumping his forehead against Stiles'. “Mmnn, forgot what it feels like not to get something right when we wake up. Move your hand.”
Stiles did.
Derek shifted forward until he could position himself over Stiles' length, holding it steady at the base as he pressed down on it. His body was so used to the sensation now, he barely tensed, easing himself down to the root within moments and wasting no time. The feeling of being filled was more than enough to make Derek's hips move before he even had time for what little acclimation his body might've needed, nails digging into the flesh over Stiles' ribs as his hips lifted, rolled forward, down, back, and up again in a slow, fluid movement.
When he moved, Stiles gasped. And when he felt Derek's nails – his blunt, human nails – digging into his skin, he groaned a second time, his own hands settling on his thighs. Even strong as he was now, he couldn't quite lift Derek up from the bed in order to rock his hips, so he focused on moving with him, on digging his heels into the mattress and pressing upwards when Derek moved away. Anything to keep him close.
Until Stiles was ready to switch positions.
Giving Derek a pat on his ass, Stiles jerked his head to the side.
Derek could feel when the man beneath him grew restless and was more than willing to shift over onto his back, even if it meant grasping him and struggling to maneuver the both of them to keep Stiles inside.
Once it was Stiles' turn to bury himself deeper, he pressed his face into the curve of Derek's neck, hands planted beside his shoulders. Kissing, licking, sucking clumsily on the skin, Stiles rocked upwards. His breath hitched as Derek's hips thrust back against his. “Shit.” He licked his lips, tongue passing along Derek's throat again, though this time it was an accident. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
The reply was soft and grated against Derek's throat, like it was a struggle to speak, to make any human noise with Stiles pressing further in. He knew it wasn't enough, that it wasn't what he needed to say, not even what he meant. There was a slew of things he wanted right then, but he could only come up with one word, an automatic reaction to the one thing he craved more than the survival – of himself and of his pack.
“God, Stiles,” Derek continued, nails clawing down the length of his back. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” His body tightened, from the jumping muscles of his stomach to the thick cords of his thighs as he lifted his legs to wrap around his lover's waist, lifting his hips off the bed entirely. “Nnh, I want-- I want you to come-- come in me and, and on me.”
There was a sharp slap of flesh-against-flesh. “Oh- oh, fuck, like that,” the werewolf moaned. “Don't. Stop.”
So he didn't.
Stiles didn't stop thrusting his hips forward; he only moved with more steady strokes. Not faster or even harder, but decisive. He didn't draw out of him only to sheathe himself fully inside of him again. He stayed inside, kept close, panting against Derek's shoulder as his body crowded the man beneath him. A hand left the mattress for just long enough to pull Derek up higher on his thighs, deepening the curve of his back and pressing his shoulders harder into the bed.
He came only a few minutes later, his mouth pressed to Derek's skin to smother his own voice, the one that threatened to raise in a shout. Muscles jerked. The fingers of one hand twisted and pulled at the sheets. And he pulled himself out of Derek with the other, his come falling in thick strings over the bottom of his stomach.
Knowing Derek's orgasm was still a while away, Stiles pulled himself up onto his knees and passed his fingers through his own come. Some of it was lost in the dark curls of his pubic hair, but there was enough left to slick him down when coupled with Derek's precome. “Fuck, you're so good,” he muttered as he began to stroke him. Derek's hips kept moving; it was as if he'd never stopped fucking him. “Yeah, that's it. That's perfect.”
Derek's response was a mere whimper.
He bucked and writhed, keeping his legs locked tight around Stiles' waist, rubbing his ass against his boyfriend's softening cock if only to keep the illusion of it still being inside him. Not that he needed it. With Stiles' practiced hand and the sensation of his come deep inside, as well as seeping into his skin, Derek came several minutes later, panting and sweating despite the chill of the house.
Without hesitation, Derek grabbed at Stiles' arms, one and then the other, tugging him down until their mouths met. “Mm,” he murmured against soft lips. “Almost worth having to ditch you this morning.”
“Nothing's worth having to ditch me,” Stiles said, his voice barely above a whisper. Pressing his nose against the bridge of Derek's, he let go of a breath that sounded more like a sigh. “This bed gets fucking cold without you in it. No more ditching. Gotta wake up early tomorrow anyway.”
Derek grunted in agreement, manhandling his boyfriend until he was the one on his back with Derek laying over him. He didn't want to bother with the covers.
“I'll get Boyd and Erica to handle combat training.” He wrapped his arms around Stiles' neck, forehead pressed against one another's. “But we're going to have to step it up. For everyone. Even us.” Derek chuckled. “Watching you run circuits again is going to be fun.”
Stiles groaned, but there was a smile on his mouth all the same. “Why can't I just be in charge of the guns? I'm good at guns. You guys leave me in the dust anyway.”
“Because if we let you get out in front, there wouldn't be anything left for us.” Sighing through his nose, Derek lifted himself half off of Stiles, taking a moment to crack his neck and roll his shoulders before settling back down. “How's our supply of wolfsbane?”
“We've got enough to wipe them all out.” Stiles went slack, his entire body relaxing. “If they stand still. And don't find some way to get them out, which they will. We need more, or we need to find more efficient ways to slow them down.” Passing his tongue over his lips, his arms curled around Derek's waist. The feeling in his stomach was back. The cold was a massive difference from the warm body pressing down on top of him. “Boyd can handle the sword. I'll start taking Danny out with me in case he's rusty. We should find somewhere safe to keep the kids.”
Derek's nostrils flared. “You're worried.” Two thick brows met over his nose, lines of age and stress creasing his face. “You haven't been worried enough for me to feel it since you became my mate. What is it?” One of his hands cupped Stiles' cheek, thumb stroking just under his eye. “They can't hurt us.”
“Derek...” Stiles shook his head, hands pressing against the small of his back. “You know they can. Let's not try to make light of a situation with the guy who's been to hell and back with you, alright?”
“I'm not an idiot, Stiles.” Derek pulled back, hazel eyes meeting the honey-brown beneath him. “I know they're dangerous. I know we might lose people. But it's the fact that you've been through hell with me that makes me believe what I've said.” Flipping his hand, he stroked Stiles' cheek with the back of his index finger. “I lost everything. I never thought I'd have this. Someone like you, a pack larger than even my family's. Kids running around again. This house is alive again.”
Leaning down, he kissed the skin between Stiles' eyebrows, murmuring against it. “I'm not letting that go, and neither are you. That's why they can't hurt us.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said with a sigh. His throat was dry. Even Derek's placating words didn't ease the chill in his gut. But he nodded and he shut his eyes and he breathed slowly, trying to at least ease whatever tension was left in his body.
“Yeah, you're right. Plus, we've got more to fight for than they do.”
Derek wasn't fooled, but he knew better than to press, instead moving on to kissing over the man's cheek, jaw, and neck, rubbing his hands up and down his strong arms. “I won't let them take this from me,” he said in a soft voice despite the heated intent behind them. “They'll expect to just mow over us. We're a young pack. My name doesn't carry weight anymore, and even if it did, a the Naguals wouldn't care.”
Derek let himself slide down just enough to resting his greying temple on Stiles' shoulder. “You're what holds the pack together. Me together. I'll fight for you until I can't anymore.”
When Stiles chuckled, the sound was wet. There was a voice inside his head, one that even Derek couldn't hear unless the words slipped. And this time they didn't.
But what's holding me together?
His chest rose and fell with another sigh, but he only held onto Derek tighter, turning to press a kiss to his forehead. “That kind of emotional manipulation should be outlawed in this house. It's not fair.” Thumb running over the warm skin of his back, Stiles kissed his forehead twice more before he let his head fall back against the pillows.
“One of these days, you're not gonna have to fight for me anymore. S'gonna be a good day.”
“Yeah, it is.” Derek's smile was easy and adoring, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Maybe we'll finally have the time to get married.”