Work Text:
Pain seared through him, his abdomen on fire with it. He tried desperately to staunch the wound, but his hand touched things that did not belong outside of him. He fought the horror and panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to get to the others. It was the only way to keep them safe, to keep his pack safe, his dad safe, to keep Derek safe, so that these things didn’t catch them unaware. Stiles tried to stand up, but his body wouldn’t respond.
A feral howl rent the air, and the panic slipped out of him in a sigh. Derek was here. Derek was ready, fighting. Everything would be okay now. Derek would keep everyone safe. Everything seemed less important, the pain a background concern. Stiles could feel the blood dripping out of him, but he couldn’t make himself move. He could hear someone calling his name and felt hands on him. He knew it was Derek, that Derek had him. He tried to find his voice, to reassure his alpha that it was okay, that he didn’t hurt, but his lips didn’t want to respond. Everything felt gray, and something whispered in his brain that he must be dying.
Suddenly the agony returned, roared through him, starting at his shoulder, where he could feel sharp teeth digging into him. He could feel every injury, knew with crystalline clarity that his guts were hanging out of his body, and that Derek was biting him, trying to save him. Energy pulsed in his gut in a way he’d never felt before and the pain was suddenly twice as bright. Stiles screamed, and finally, blackness took him.
****
Consciousness leaked into Stiles in pieces. He was aware of feeling cherished, safe, and warm. He had this nagging feeling floating in the back of his brain that he should be in a hospital, but he knew he wasn’t. He was certain he was home, yet sure that he was not in his own bed. As awareness filtered in, he realized that he was breathing in the scent of petrichor and cinnamon, that it was all around him, consuming him. There was more to it somehow, and it smelled like joy and safety and satisfaction all rolled up together. He felt like he was drowning in the smell, yet craved more of it.
He shifted, nuzzled closer to the source, inhaling deeply, reveling in the pure pleasure of the scent. He nosed the warm source of the scent, felt the urge to taste the heated expanse of skin. His tongue slipped out, and the skin felt even better than it smelled. Then his brain caught up with him, the single thought of “Skin?”
Stiles forced his eyes open, panic slamming into him as he realized he was licking Derek Hale. He jerked back as if burned, fumbling backwards out of the bed to land roughly on his ass.
“Uh.” Stiles tried to come up with something to say, but his brain was still not completely online, and he scrabbled through his brain for words. “Weren’t my guts all over the forest floor?”
“Yes.” Derek replied, a smirk crossing his face. Stiles glanced around, realizing that he was in Derek’s room, in Derek’s bed, with Derek. The man drew his gaze and Stiles realized he’d been in bed with a half naked Derek, while wearing only boxer shorts himself.
“I’m missing how I got from dying to here.” Saying it out loud caused all the wheels of his brain to spin and stumble right into the only answer. “Oh Fuck. You bit me. I’m a werewolf. My dad is going to kill me. And you. And probably Scott too, just for funsies.” Stiles leaned down and banged his head on the ground.
“It was that or death. What were you thinking Stiles?” Derek did not sound happy.
“I was thinking that I had to warn the pack,” Stiles spoke into the floor. “When the Goblins want to be sneaky, you can’t smell them or see them or hear them. The sneak up on werewolves and kill them. You’ve got to draw them out. Also, they were chasing me. I was just trying to get to you guys. This is not my fault.” Stiles paused, “And I get that you saved me. So thank you for that. I take it this means that I’ve got to start running around the forest like an idiot with the rest of the pack? And get up stupid early for Saturday training?” Stiles sat up slightly, and ran his hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes. Then he finally worked up the courage to look down at the spot where he knew his guts had been hanging out of his body. He saw fresh pink skin, faint scars, which he knew from two years of running around with werewolves would fade soon. He reached down and traced his hand gently over the spot, and heard Derek’s heart stutter, heard a sharp intake of breath from the older man. Stiles snapped his eyes up to meet Derek’s. He had not moved to rise from the bed, just propped his head up on one arm, the sheet draped artfully over his lower body. He looked like some sort of lickable magazine ad. Stiles felt magnetically charged, pulled inexplicably and inexorably to Derek.
“What is this? Is this an Alpha/Beta thing?” Stiles flailed his arms about in frustration.
“What are you talking about Stiles?” Derek cocked his head, confusion plain on his face.
“I don’t know! Why am I here? Why am I in someone else’s underwear? Why aren’t you dressed? How come you are so...!” Stiles cut off abruptly, bringing his hand to his mouth and biting at it. He swore he’d just spent three willpower points to stop himself from saying out loud that Derek looked so lickable.
“You got intestine all over the shredded remains of your clothes. The pack brought you here, cleaned you up, and put you in bed. Your dad thinks you are with Scott, camping for a couple of days. You were crying out, struggling, in your sleep. When I touched you, you would calm down. I was tired. You were in my bed. What else did you expect?” Derek looked annoyed, but since that was Derek’s natural state, Stiles ignored it.
“For you to be dressed?” Stiles squeaked.
“I’m not naked.” Derek pointed out.
“Argh. I swear, you miss the point on purpose. Can I go home? Or at least get some clothes and some food? Maybe a shower too.”
“Bathroom. I’ll work on food.” Derek gestured towards it. Stiles looked at the door, and then felt his gaze sliding back to Derek of its own accord. He wanted to crawl back into bed, he wanted to taste every inch of his alpha. Stiles wrenched his head back and scrambled into the bathroom. He pulled the door firmly shut behind him, locking it. Not that a locked door would keep a werewolf out, but Derek had to have heard the lock and had to be able to understand that Stiles wanted to be alone.
He carefully examined himself in the mirror, but other than the healing scars, he saw nothing else different about his new werewolf body. His old scars were pale and shiny against his skin, claw marks down his left shoulder, the nasty burn on his chest, two bullet holes, and the arrow wound. He could hear Derek moving around in the other room, getting out bed, heading towards the kitchen. Stiles fidgeted, biting his lip to keep from talking to himself out loud. He knew Derek would be able to hear him. He could hear Derek opening cupboards and moving around in the kitchen, so he finally turned on the shower and used the toilet. Stiles’ thoughts tumbled through his brain in a familiar way, confirming once and for all that lycanthropy does not cure ADHD.
A pang of anxiety flitted through him at the idea of washing Derek’s scent off of his skin, and Stiles had no idea how to react to that. In the end, he just sighed and got under the water. He grabbed some of Derek’s very familiar soap, the light scent filling his nose. Stiles had switched over to the same soaps as Derek almost a year ago. It’d been after one of the few high school dances that Stiles had bothered to go to. This is Stiles’ life, so of course there had been a werewolf emergency about halfway through. Stiles had abandoned his purely platonic date, and ended up spending three hours in the car with Derek. Normally stoic Derek had actually managed to keep grumbling for almost the entire time about how Stiles reeked of formaldehyde and chemical musk. Stiles had snarked right back, but in the end, he’d gleaned that Derek was actually bothered by the chemical smells, scented soaps, even the deodorants that Stiles normally chose for himself. When the werewolf emergency was over, Stiles resolved to do something about it. After all, if he was going to run with the pack, he should at least be sure he didn’t smell offensive. He snuck a peek at the scents and brands Derek did like and switched himself over too. Derek hadn’t mentioned Stiles’ scent choices since.
So he’d known smell, scent, was important to werewolves, but OMFG, he did not expect Derek to smell so good. Not that Derek had smelled bad prior to Stiles waking up a werewolf, but this was insane. Stiles had to admit to himself that he’d basically been attracted to Derek pretty much from the start, and that attraction had only grown as he’d spent time around the man. Derek was pretty much the main source for wet dreams and personal time fantasies, and his newfound scent only made him more appealing. Stiles whimpered reflexively, thinking about the scent, the taste of Derek’s muscle bound body in bed with him. Stiles flushed with embarrassment at the realization that he could smell his own arousal over the subtle scents of the soap. He desperately wished he had some privacy, but he could hear Scott coming in the front door. And if he could hear that, then the other werewolves could surely hear everything in the shower. Stiles sighed and turned the water to cold.
He came out of the bathroom to discover that Derek had left a set of clean clothes out on the bed, along with Stiles’ cell phone, keys, and wallet. He picked up the shirt, bringing it up to his nose. It smelled strongly of Derek. A pleased smile crossed Stiles’ face as he slid into the clothes. Tension Stiles hadn’t even been aware of slipped out of him, just the knowledge that he’d still be wearing Derek’s scent making everything right.
As soon as he arrived in the kitchen, Scott threw himself at Stiles in an enthusiastic hug. Stiles gladly returned it, but froze when a small growl came from Derek at the stove. Stiles locked eyes on Derek’s muscular back.
“Dude! I am so glad you are okay. That was a major scare, DO NOT do that to me again.” Scott stepped back and cocked his head at Stiles. “What?”
“Did Derek just growl?” Stiles kept his voice as low as possible, but suspected it wasn’t low enough to keep all the werewolves from hearing.
“Derek always growls when someone touches you. Didn’t you know that?” Scott replied, perplexed.
“Since when?” Stiles’ voice came out both louder and higher than he meant it too.
“Since, like, always? I don’t remember when he started it.” Scott shrugged, “Could you not, like, hear it before? Because that explains so much. I always thought it was weird that you never had a snappy comeback for him.”
“I think I would have said something if I knew Derek was growling at me on a regular basis.” Stiles couldn’t help but push buttons, so he stepped up to Scott and hugged him again. He took extra care to scent Scott, wanting to know if all werewolves smelled as good as Derek, or if it was just Derek. Derek growled again, a quiet rumble, just a touch threatening. Scott did not smell anywhere as nice as Derek, he smelled younger somehow, and his scent reminded Stiles of mushrooms and a little like a locker room, but not in a bad way. “I’m fine. I feel fine. How long did you tell my dad we were camping for?” Stiles stepped away from Scott, and he swore he could see tension ease from the line of Derek’s shoulders as he released Scott.
“Oh, well, we weren’t sure how long till you’d be better, but we figured day after tomorrow. Lucky for you it’s spring break. But you can always, you know, come home early though.”
“I think I’ll take a day to adjust. Learn how to be a werewolf, hang out with the alpha. I mean, this werewolf gig can’t be too hard, I’ve been watching you guys do it for years now. I’d rather not risk a stupid newbie wolf out on my dad.” Stiles shrugged.
“Oh! I brought your stuff. Clothes and stuff, if you want to change into your own clothes.” Scott gestured to a bag on the table. Stiles went to it and opened it up, but found the idea of changing from Derek’s clothes, the idea of shedding some of Derek’s scent, caused his stomach to churn. Was this a werewolf thing?
“Hey, Derek, Scott and I are gonna go outside and talk for a bit?” Stiles tried to make it sound like a statement, but his tone may have come out more like a question than he intended.
Derek made another growl sound, a little protest, perhaps, but what he said was, “Whatever. I’ll have food ready in about ten minutes. Stay close, you may feel healed, but that was a close call for you. And the change can affect different people in different ways.” Derek finally turned around, made eye contact with Stiles. Stiles froze under Derek’s studying gaze. It felt like he was being reeled in, and Stiles shuffled closer, his fingers itching to touch Derek.
“Stiles, come on then.” Scott’s voice jolted Stiles, like Derek had become his whole world, and Scott was such a minor detail that he’d become irrelevant. Stiles bit down hard on his lip, using the pain to distract him, to break eye contact. Scott just looked confused, shaking his head and heading out the door.
“I’ll be right back. I won’t be gone long.” Stiles whispered, looking at the ground. He suddenly didn’t want to leave the room, but he also wanted to talk to Scott about all of this, to find out if this was normal. Did new wolves just want their alpha like this? He forced himself to follow Scott out.
They walked together for a bit until Stiles didn’t think he could hear Derek at all anymore. “Are we far enough away that he can’t hear us?”
“Derek? He’s the alpha, and he’s been a werewolf his whole life, so he might be able to hear better than we can, but I think we’re far enough away now.” Scott shrugged.
“Okay. So. I’ve got questions.”
“Of course you do. Dude, you know more about this shit than I do, honestly.” Scott shook his head.
“Well, before I wasn’t a werewolf,” Stiles replied bluntly. “It’s weird.”
“I know. Been there. I can feel you in the pack way stronger than before though, so that’s good.”
“What do you mean?” The pack had told him before that they could feel each other, like a sixth sense, a general feeling or connection to each other, and to him, but that he was faint, because he was human. Stiles had honestly half thought they were lying to make him feel better, and he never felt them. Well, sometimes he thought he might have felt Derek, but that had been weird, so he was pretty sure he was making it up in his head because he wanted it to be true.
“Might be better to go over it with Derek, but you should be able to feel us, all of us.” Scott was not very helpful.
“I can’t believe he turned me. I’m not mad, but I never felt like it was something I wanted, you know? Being a big bad wolf sounds cool, but it is also dangerous. I liked having my options open.” Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face.
“You’d be dead.” Scott stopped walking and sat down on the ground. “If he hadn’t turned you, I mean. Your guts were hanging out on the outside. I don’t even know how you survived. He pulled hard through the pack bonds to keep you alive. You really should be dead.”
“So being a werewolf means you guys are finally willing to talk a little more about the werewolf mojo stuff with me?” Stiles said lightly, trying to avoid thoughts of being dead.
“I guess. It doesn’t feel right to talk about it with non-wolves. I’ve not really tried to explain it to anyone but you before, and it was hard then. Now it’s easy.” Scott smiled. “One of us! One of us!”
“Tell me what happened, from your perspective.” Stiles asked, silently reassuring himself that he could deal with this, with almost dying, with being a werewolf now, with whatever was going on with him and Derek.
“We were hanging out, waiting for you to show up to start the pack meeting, and Derek just jumped up and started to change. He howled, and we just all knew you were in trouble. Next thing we know, we’re all changing and running out after him, running to where we knew you were. We got there and the rest of us fought the goblin things. Derek went straight for you, took out the ones near you, and then he bit you. No hesitation at all. It was like he couldn’t do anything but get to you. As soon as the fighting was over, he pulled hard on the pack, slowed our healing and everything way down. We all slipped back to human, just, didn’t have the juice to stay wolfed out. He had to let up a little, send a little back to those of us seriously injured, once your change started to take. But even then, it took so much to keep you going. Derek just wouldn’t let you die. Which I am totally grateful for, because I would not have enjoyed your funeral at all.” Scott smiled and reached out, pulling Stiles to him in a half hug.
“You know you’d miss me.” Stiles leaned into the touch, and it did bring him happiness, more than when he was human, to be close. It was nothing like the pull he felt to touch Derek though. “So you seem happy about my change?”
“Yeah, it feels right. I mean, you’ve always felt like pack, even back when I was very first changed and didn’t know what it meant. But now you feel right. I can’t really explain.” Scott sighed.
“And the touchy-feely bit. That’s werewolf pack dynamics, right? Do you feel more like touching your alpha than your other packmates?” Stiles was trying to ask about his feelings for Derek, to see if the werewolf bonds were the issue or not.
“I like to touch my pack. It makes me happy. We’re all a little touch... what’s the word you used last time we talked about this?” Scott relaxed back in the grass, pulling Stiles down next to him. Stiles laid his head on Scott’s shoulder. It did feel good, even if it was weird.
“Touch starved? Tactile? Chronic puppypilers? Cuddle monsters?” Stiles felt it himself now. He’d always been tactile, but touching Scott did seem to calm him, make him feel safe. It wasn’t like the pull to be near Derek though. “So what about Derek?”
“What about him? It’s pretty much the same with him as with all of the pack. Even you when you were human. Sometimes, if it’s really bad, I want him specifically, but rarely. Normally any pack member makes me feel better, more centered.”
“Is there anyone you feel like you need to touch? Above the others?” Stiles was glad that the way they were laying the grass precluded eye contact.
“Allison.” There was no hesitation in Scott’s voice.
“Fuck.” Was all Stiles could respond with.
“So, does this mean you’re finally going to do something about you and Derek?” Scott was sitting up. Stiles let himself slip to the ground.
“What do you mean? There is no me and Derek.” Stiles objected, even though he knew he was lying. Scott just laughed instead.
“Dude, you two have been dancing around each other forever. He growls every time someone else touches you, he worries about you, protects you above others. When you were dying, you had his whole attention. And you! You flirt with him all the time. It’s very annoying,” Scott was suppressing his laughter around the words.
Stiles suddenly felt a pull, but it was in his gut, not physical. It felt like someone had tied a string around his body and had gently tugged him back towards Derek. And he knew instinctively it was tugging him towards Derek, not anything or anyone else. Stiles couldn’t explain how he knew. Scott stood and offered Stiles a hand up.
“That’s your cue. You should head back to him, eat, and like, figure this shit out before we all go insane.” Scott told him.
“You felt that?” Stiles felt his eyebrows climb as he got to his feet.
“Derek wants you. He doesn’t want me to go back with you. Yeah, I feel that. You can’t get complex things across the pack, but little things, obvious things? Yeah. You’ll be able to tell when one of us is hurt or in trouble. Sometimes even what direction we’re in. It’s cool. I’m gonna head out. Have fun! Glad you lived!” And with that, Scott was turning, jogging away.
Stiles felt the tug again, and he sighed before heading back in, back to Derek. They had a lot to talk about. Derek was standing at the counter, putting food on plates as Stiles walked in. The urge, the pull to touch was strong, and Stiles decided, fuck it all, and just walked up behind Derek, sliding his hands around Derek’s waist, pressing his chest along Derek’s back. The tension, the stress seeped out of Stiles. He leaned his head in and ran his nose along the back of Derek’s neck, breathing in the heavenly scent of Derek. He had just barely held himself back from rubbing his sweatpant clad erection against Derek, when he realized how Derek had stilled under his touch, had stopped moving, was holding his breath. Stiles forced himself to step back, trailing his fingers along Derek’s stomach, sides, even his back, until he was far enough away that his fingertips left Derek’s thin cotton shirt.
“So. Food?” Stiles managed to make his mouth work.
“Yeah. Food. Here.” Derek turned, handing a plate ladened with breakfast foods, extra helpings of meat, over to Stiles. Stiles reached for it, allowed his fingers to brush Derek’s as he accepted the food.
“So, now that I’m all werewolfy too, do I need to follow some sort of weird edict about who eats first?” Stiles sat down at the table, picking up a fork. Derek just glared at him and didn’t respond, so Stiles dug in. They ate in silence, mostly because Stiles suddenly realized he was absolutely ravenous and kept shoving food in his mouth at an alarming rate, and because Derek tended to not start conversations. It wasn’t until Stiles’ plate was clean and his glass drained of milk, that he looked over at Derek. Derek dropped his eyes to his plate as soon as Stiles’ head came up. The food on Derek’s plate was half eaten, and Stiles reached over, stole a piece of bacon and chomped away happily.
“Did you seriously take bacon off my plate?” Derek sounded incredulous.
“You implied there were no silly rules. And I’m out of meat. I steal your food all the time.” Stiles pointed out.
“You steal my potatoes all the time. Not my bacon.”
“Oh god. Is this a werewolf thing? Am I like going to crave meat more than potatoes now? Does meat have some weird symbology? Is a lack of red meat bad? I can’t stop making healthy foods for Dad, so I need to be able to eat tofu and crap still. You’d tell me if this was a werewolf thing, right?” Stiles babbled.
“It’s just good bacon. Maple flavored. And you took mine.”
“Is there more?” Stiles questioned.
“No. I cooked up what we had.”
“So stealing yours was the right move then.” Stiles stuffed the rest of the piece in his mouth. Derek shook his head and looked away, but Stiles thought he saw a hint of a smile cross Derek’s lips. He flipped the page of the magazine sitting on the table, like he was trying to ignore Stiles. Stiles used Derek’s lack of eye contact to really look at Derek, to let his gaze slide up and down the older man. Derek was absolutely stunning, just looking at him, thinking about touching him had Stiles half hard in his pants. This time Stiles could also see the tension in Derek, like he was on the edge of pain and trying to ignore it. Stiles leaned in closer, bumping his shoulder against Derek’s. Touching Derek sent a shiver through Stiles, and he felt himself relax, would have closed his eyes in relief, except that he was watching Derek closely, focused, for once, only on Derek’s reaction to his touch.
Derek let out a soft sigh, leaned subtly into Stiles’ touch. Stiles could see the tension leaving Derek, watched his eyelids flutter, even noticed a slight widening of Derek’s pupils. Stiles stayed where he was, the casual contact of their shoulders obviously bringing comfort to both of them. He cast his mind back to all the times he’d been around Derek. At pack meetings, movie nights, anytime they were gathered, whenever it was more than just himself and Derek alone, they always sat together. So many nights sitting on the couch, watching something with the pack, their knees pressed together, Stiles leaning against Derek more as the movie progressed. He’d always felt a little like a creeper, stealing touches from the wolf. Now he wondered why Derek hadn’t ever touched back, or why, when they were alone together, Derek would put distance, physical distance, emotional distance between them. Stiles let his mind sift through all the clues, look at the whole puzzle that was Derek, and suddenly, the picture formed in his head. He latched onto a hypothesis, and couldn’t let it go. He had to test his theory, right now, this very minute.
Step one was easy enough. Stiles sighed and stood up. He felt his own tension rise at the loss of contact, was aware of the way Derek flinched, almost as if he was in pain. It was enough to give him the courage to try step two. Stiles moved quickly, more quickly than he knew he was capable of, thanks to his new werewolf reflexes. Derek even looked startled as Stiles pulled Derek’s chair, complete with Derek still in it, back from the table, and swung with more grace than Stiles knew he had ever possessed, into Derek’s lap. Derek froze at the contact, eyes wide. Stiles took a second to let his brain acknowledge that he was now straddling Derek, because, WOW, that was not on his to do list yesterday, not that he minded, or didn’t want too or anything. He just wasn’t sure where the courage came from. Once his brain finished that thought, he found himself burying his nose in the crook of Derek’s neck, inhaling the damp earth and cinnamon scent like it was some sort of drug. Actually, the smell did make him feel a little light headed, was it possible to get high off of a werewolf?
Step three could end up leaving Stiles feeling destroyed or over the moon, but he found himself following his plan instinctively, rocking his hips into Derek. Relief and excitement tingled through him instantly as he confirmed that Derek’s body, at least, was interested in the proceedings. Stiles heard himself moan, which he totally hadn’t meant to do, and gave into his need to taste Derek, nipping gently at his neck.
The world spun suddenly, everything moving too fast to follow. Stiles let out a surprised grunt as his back was slammed with inhuman speed against a wall. His brain caught up, he had just a second to realize that Derek had stood up with Stiles in his lap and spun up against the wall. His new werewolf body handled the impact without issue, his legs instinctively gripped at Derek’s waist, and Derek leaned into Stiles hungrily, licking his way into Stiles’ surprised mouth. As first kisses go, this one was perfect. Derek felt hot against his body, tasted of breakfast and summer rains. Stiles could hear small whimpers, and he thought they might have been coming from him, but he wasn’t sure. Derek pulled his head back, and Stiles tried to chase Derek’s lips, wanting to taste him more. Derek dodged artfully, leaning into Stiles’ neck and inhaling.
Stiles felt teeth at his neck, and he arched into Derek, seeking friction against his body. He just needed to be closer to Derek, to touch his skin. He wrapped his hands around Derek, fingers scrabbling at Derek’s back. Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest and he felt a tingling, almost pain, run through his body, felt Derek’s shirt tearing under his nails. Stiles opened his eyes in surprise, eyes going to his own hands. He’d known intellectually that he was a werewolf now, but seeing the claws brought nothing but panic to mind, and he let out a startled yelp and pushed Derek back, kicking out with his feet. Derek slid them both to the ground, and slowly released Stiles.
“Stiles, what’s wrong? Stiles? I’m here. Be calm.” Derek’s voice was soothing. Stiles drew his knees up to his chest and brought his hands in close, eyes downcast. “Stiles. It’s just you and me here. You don’t need to worry about the wolf with me. You never need to be ashamed of the wolf with me. You are safe. You are pack.” Derek sat down next to Stiles, wrapping an arm around him.
“I’m okay. Just, wasn’t expecting it. Scared me. I was worried I’d hurt you.” Stiles mumbled at the ground.
Derek let out a little bark of laughter. “You can’t hurt me by wolfing out. You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. You’re back to normal, you know? It was just your hands. We’ll work on your control. If Scott could figure it out, you’ll have no problem.”
Stiles couldn’t help but snort laughter himself. Then it occurred to him that he had wolfed out because he was making out with Derek. Stiles Stilinski making out with Derek Hale.
“Since we’re managing words, will you explain what the hell is going on? Is this something you do with all your new werewolves? I mean, I didn’t even think you were into guys, let alone me.” Stiles still couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact.
“It’s not. I’m not.” Derek’s voice contained no inflection.
“Not? Then why the hell were we just making out.” Stiles was very confused.
“You know about Kate?” Derek looked over, and when Stiles nodded, he continued, “After that, sex, anything about it, seemed wrong somehow. I just sort of ignored it for a while. After I came back to Beacon Hills, there was you. Once I realized, I tried to ignore it, and sometimes I tried to see if someone else would work, but in the end, there was just you.”
“What? Why? Why me? Why not me? I mean, why someone else instead of me?” Stiles was tripping over his own words.
“My wolf instincts, they think you’re my, well, for lack of a better term, mate.” Derek shrugged, looked away.
“MATE? Seriously? Why didn’t you say anything before? What does it mean? Heck, if I smell half as good to you as you do to me, how come you didn’t jump me already?” Because Stiles already felt the call of Derek, he wanted Derek fiercely. He was not sure he was going to be able to go more than another five minutes without some skin on skin contact with the older man.
Derek’s eyes were focused somewhere off in the distance, not looking at Stiles. “Kate, she came to me when I was young, she manipulated me, told me things I wasn’t ready for, talked about things like forever and magic love and I just fell for it. I wasn’t going to do that to someone else. Being mates, it’s a wolf instinct, and just because my wolf recognized you, as a human, it didn’t mean anything to you. Even more, it’s possible that if you became a wolf, your wolf wouldn’t feel the same pull. It’s rare, but it happens sometimes, where one wolf feels the pull, and the object of their affections does not. Sometimes, over time the wolves will agree to be mates, even with a rough start. I wanted to wait till you could make the choice yourself. You are so young.”
“I’ve been 18 for months now.” Stiles could feel the heat behind his words.
“You still haven’t finished high school. You’ve got colleges to apply for and a future to decide.” Derek replied easily.
“And that is already settled. I’ve got a scholarship to cover two years at the local community college. I was planning to live at home, and Dad helped wrangle a part time job for me as a file clerk at the station, which will be awesome fodder for my criminal sciences degree. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t have the money, don’t want to be away from the pack. All of this was decided before Christmas, after I turned 18. So why weren’t you in my bed on Christmas morning? Is it not as bad for you? The wanting? Does it get easier?” Stiles voice wavered, and he gave into the impulse to touch, bumping his head against Derek.
“Not easier. I always want to touch you. I’ve been afraid of hurting you for so long. I was afraid I’d lose control if you got to close when we were alone together. You smell so sweet. But I got used to it, figured out how to keep myself at bay, finally was able to relax and enjoy your company, enjoy you, without touching. I didn’t have a choice about turning you. Honestly, I was a little afraid I’d turn you and you’d be able to smell how much I wanted you, only to tell me you weren’t into me. Or that you’d be so mad at me for turning you, you’d storm off in disgust, take Scott and go.” Derek leaned into Stiles, nuzzling at him.
“And the growling when people touch me? Did the rest of the pack know?” Stiles turned into the contact and placed a soft kiss on Derek’s cheek.
“Pretty much. Once I realized you couldn’t hear my growling, it was easier to just give into the instinct than repress it. It was kind of one of my coping mechanisms. That way the other wolves knew you were mine, even if you weren’t carrying my scent.” He paused for a minute, pulled away. “You’re not mine you know. You can say no. You don’t have to be with me.”
Stiles leaned over, pushing Derek down onto the floor, crawling over him. Derek went down easy, laying flat on his back. Stiles straddled Derek bucking his hips a little into Derek’s hardness.
“Are you mine?” Stiles asked as he leaned over the alpha.
“Yes. Almost since I met you, for years now. For years to come.” Derek met Stiles’ eyes, open and honest and with something that might be hope glinting in the light.
“Then don’t be stupid, of course I’m yours.” Stiles leaned down, and the kiss he started was heat and love, full of the promise of things to come.