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The sound of a key in the lock and the door creaking open roused Derek from the half asleep state he’d been in. He dragged his eyes open and squinted towards the newcomer.
It was him, of course. Derek swallowed harshly. Why would it be anyone else? His betas were gone, two of them still missing, and Isaac had Scott now.
The other man walked closer, stopping just outside the circle of mountain ash. He pulled up the chair he’d left there earlier and sat down heavily. It was still strange, looking at this other version of himself. He was dressed in Derek’s spare jeans -- they were definitely his, he could tell from the way they were falling apart at the bottom -- and a new plain black t-shirt. His arms were crossed and he was looking at Derek with a slight quirk of his lips. It was a look Derek recognized from looking in the mirror, when he’d practiced to seem like he didn’t care, to appear cold and aloof and barely interested.
It was odd, seeing his face on someone else. This man claimed to be him. Or, well, a him from another world, a different world, but still Derek Hale, who was a werewolf and who was the cause of his family’s death. It was strange to think of him as “Derek” though. He wasn’t the real one, as far as Derek was concerned. He was a twisted copy. Derek would call him Ben. It was his middle name. Kate had used it when putting his phone number into her cell, claiming her family wouldn’t approve if they realized who he was. He’d believed her. It seemed somehow appropriate to call this other version of him by the same name.
Ben didn’t say anything, just sat there, staring at Derek. Derek flexed his hands in their cuffs, up above his head. His arms were getting numb from being held like that too long, and he wished he could rip them apart, get his fingers around this other guy’s neck and squeeze. His wrists were chafed raw and painful. Ben had coated the cuffs with some type of wolfsbane, just enough to make it hurt when he pulled at them.
Derek let out a long breath. If the guy was waiting for him to say something or make a move, then he’d be waiting for a while. Maybe they were the same person, somehow. Maybe Ben was just as stubborn as he was, but Derek was determined not to give in first. He could hold on to this little bit of power.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and --
No. It couldn’t be. He took another breath to be sure, but there it was again. The subtle whiff of sex floating off Ben, but more importantly, and just as strong, the smell of Stiles. A growl escaped his throat and he quickly swallowed it down.
Ben grinned, and Derek hated himself for a moment for being so obvious, for giving the guy that much.
“So,” his doppelganger began. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He paused a moment, as if waiting for Derek to respond. When that didn’t happen, he gave a small shrug and went on, unbothered. “Don’t you want to know how it was?”
Derek bared his teeth, letting his canines grow long and sharp.
Ben laughed. “Oh, he definitely liked that. Who knew Stiles would be so into the werewolf side of things? Well,” he amended after a moment. “I did. But I bet you didn’t. A shame, really.” He shook his head.
“If you -- if you hurt -- “
Ben let out a bark of laughter. “Oh Derek, don’t be so stupid. I didn’t force him into anything.” He made an exaggerated pout, pretending to be hurt. “Is that what you really think of me? Oh, no, no. That’s not how it was. He liked it. He wanted it.”
Derek’s jaw clenched. He tried to keep his breathing even, his heart rate down.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Shall I tell it to you from the beginning?” He leaned back in his chair, angled his fingers together. His eyes were at half mast as he was remembering. “We kissed first,” he started, and licked his lips. “He was surprised. But he got over it quickly. He’s very … enthusiastic.”
His eyes were fixed on Derek, waiting. Derek turned his head away. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t thought about it before, kissing Stiles. He’d imagined it in every possible way: Stiles being rough and demanding, biting at his lips; Stiles being soft and gentle, licking his way slowly into Derek’s mouth, breathing together; Stiles unsure, tentative, waiting for Derek to make a move first, waiting for Derek to press their mouths together and take what he wanted.
Ben continued. “He liked it when I bit his neck. Gently, I didn’t want to break the skin. I could hear his heartbeat speed up when I let my teeth out. He makes the most delicious noises.”
Derek swallowed harshly.
“He was the one who suggested we continue in bed. I didn’t even have to lift a finger. He was glad, I think, to finally get what he’d been wanting. I’m rather surprised you hadn’t taken him earlier.”
“I didn’t --” Derek started, and then bit back the rest of that sentence. He hadn’t known, or maybe hadn’t wanted to know, that Stiles wanted him. He could smell Stiles, smell arousal on him, smell it when he’d jerked off. Stiles did that often. But he couldn’t know what Stiles had been thinking of. He’d told himself it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him.
Ben raised an eyebrow, waiting for Derek to continue. Derek pressed his lips firmly closed.
“Have you ever seen him naked? So much skin, just waiting for me to put my mouth on it, to bite down, to mark him.”
Derek breathed in sharply. He’d wanted -- he’d wanted that, before. To sink his teeth into Stiles’s long neck, suck on it, leave a giant bruise for everybody to see.
His jeans were getting tighter, and Derek bit back a moan. He would not give in to this, whatever Ben was doing.
The man went on, relentlessly. “You can’t imagine the noise he made when I took his cock in my mouth.”
Derek clenched his hands into fists, letting the nails lengthen and dig into his palms.
“He tasted so good.” Derek swallowed around the phantom feeling of a weight on his tongue. Ben continued. “I put my hands all over him, and he loved it. I let him fuck up into my mouth, and he loved that too. And then he asked me -- well, take a guess. What did he ask me?”
Derek opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He glared at his captor.
“Not gonna say anything, then? That’s fine.” Ben leaned forward, and his teeth gleamed in the darkness as he grinned, bright and feral, predatory. Derek hadn’t known his face could look like that. “He asked me to fuck him.”
If Derek hadn’t been hard before, he definitely was now. It was painful, the seam of his jeans digging uncomfortably into his dick. His wrists were still burning from the wolfsbane.
He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t wanted to fuck Stiles. He’d imagined it, lying alone on his dingy mattress, hand around his own cock, moving up and down in slow, sure strokes. He’d make sure Stiles was lying face down on a bed, comfortable. He’d kiss down his back slowly, taking his time, ignoring Stiles’s impatient noises. He would go slow, slipping one finger in gently, letting Stiles adjust to it, get used to the presence inside him. He’d push in and out slowly, and Stiles would urge him on, lift his hips eagerly, begging for more. After a while of that, he’d slip in the second finger, and keep going at the same steady pace. Pushing in and out, in and out, as Stiles whimpered and gasped and moaned. And finally, finally, when Stiles was wrung out, Derek would push in. He would be slow, gently. He would wrap himself around Stiles, kiss the nape of his neck, and let them move together.
Ben smirked when Derek let out a soft noise. “Take your time,” he said. “I know it’s a lot for you.”
Derek growled at him, but there was no denying how turned on his was. He could smell the arousal on himself. Any werewolf in his immediate vicinity would be able to tell. And the scent of Stiles was there too, muted. It was mixed a bit with Ben’s scent, with Derek’s scent.
After a moment, Ben continued. “I let him come first. In my mouth, and you should have heard the noise he made then. Like music to my ears.”
Derek couldn’t help the images in his head of Stiles, eyes closed, mouth open, cheeks flushed red, pushing his hips forward with abandon.
“And then I fucked him.”
A whimper escaped Derek, high and needy.
“I turned him over and I took him, pushed into him, fucked him fast and hard, and oh, how he loved it. He was trembling and begging for more by the end, and I pulled out and came all over his back, rubbed it in, pressed myself into his skin.”
Derek bit his lip to keep the sounds in as his dick pulsed, painfully trapped inside his pants. His balls were tightening and there was a tingle starting in his feet, working its way up past his knees, his thighs, spreading out through his chest, all the way into his fingers, making him feel hot and sweaty all over.
“He let me do all that. He wanted it, and asked me to jerk him off again, and I did. You should have seen him at the end, spread out on the bed, completely spent.”
Stiles would be lying there, limbs spread out, that soft smile on his face that he got when he was secretly pleased. His eyes would be closed, eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks. If Derek was there, he would lean in, press his lips softly to Stiles’s eyelids, move down to his lips, work his mouth open with slow, deep kisses.
His orgasm took him by surprise. He gasped as wetness spread across his underwear and jeans. His hips spasmed up off the floor a few times before settling down. The breath he let out was shaky at best.
Ben laughed softly. “What happy chance that I came here. You wouldn’t have done anything, would you? You’d have let Stiles slip through your fingers.” His voice was harsh and punishing now. “You would have let yourself be burdened down with your own hateful thoughts, feeling too sorry for yourself to reach out and take what was there. You’re pitiful. You don’t deserve what you have here.”
He stood up then, pushing the chair back. He turned and walked back toward the door, stopping only for a moment, his hand on the knob. He didn’t look back, but Derek could still hear the words, whispered to himself. “But I do.” And then he was gone.
Derek couldn’t do anything but close his eyes and breathe.