Chapter Text
Stiles was only moderately irritated at the moment when Derek suddenly threw him on the floor and ran out. Honestly, that was getting like a habit between them at this point. It was unfortunate, but even that brief testing showed that the artifact indeed worked, his theories on that particular enchantment were correct and with enough work he was sure, he would be able to duplicate the result on a bigger scale. Finally, finally, he could contribute in some significant way, not counting all his strategizing and generally being the guy with a plan, of course. But something tangible, something that would allow him to prevent his loved ones coming to harm, hopefully, rather than always dealing with the fallout.
So he collected his precious creation, jotted down some more notes on that awesome color it turned at one point on Derek's chest - it was really, really beautiful, he just had to know what emotion it was later on - and then suddenly realized just how wiped he was. The exhaustion hit him like a brick, and he barely managed to hobble over to the bed, already asleep before his head hit the pillow, still clothed and right on top of half of his notes and random scraps he used in the work process.
It was how his father found him hours later, and the slightly concerned but fond look on his face, as always, didn't fail to bring a lazy smile to Stiles' face.
“Mornin', dad.”
“Morning, son. Should I call the station and report a robbery, or..?”
He gestured around the room, now examining which with more or less sober eyes the omega saw was a total mess, even more so than usual.
“Urrghh, nah, that's all me. But I finished it! I think. The testing went weird. Hey, maybe you can help! I need to increase my sample group!”
Cogs in his brain already working, Stiles perked up immediately, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and extricating himself from the bed to reach for the necklace, but his father stopped him halfway with both hands drawn up in placating gesture.
“Son, I'll be happy to help, but first, you shower and I’ll make breakfast that you actually eat. You look awful.”
“Gee, thanks, such compliments.”
But quite honestly, his dad was right, he was so caught up in his work, he couldn't quite remember when he changed clothes last, never mind a bath or anything else. With a defeated groan he headed to change exactly that, his thoughts returning to last night and, of course, Derek.
He was generally weird all the time since Stiles returned and turned out to be an omega, and the human really tried his best to not just assume the worst of the guy, since he didn't treat any other omega in their pack any differently, but... he was weird. Maybe it was strictly a Stiles-shaped issue, though, it wouldn't be the first time, and with that, he could deal (probably, he hoped). It would suck, but he'd know how to proceed at least. It didn't help that he was usually immune to all sorts of scorn and disregard in his direction, those he could shake off fairly easy, but this... This stung somehow. It felt wrong. He wanted Derek to like him.
“Okay, that's just going too far. Showers are bad, bad places to think, yep. Traitor!” - Stiles jabbed a wet finger at the shower head, turning the water off and deciding to focus on his work instead of stupid thoughts about some stupid, brooding ridiculously hot alpha.
Also, his new stupid and ridiculous omega hormones? Totally not helpful.
So he dried himself, and brushed his teeth, and found some clean clothes, and even combed his hair, all while very pointedly not thinking about one particular Hale. Or his broad shoulders that were so perfect for pillowing your head on while watching a movie. Or the warmth he always radiated as a perfect portable heater that could stave off even the worst chills of the night. Or how excited in an absolutely inappropriate way it was to sit astride those "wolfy buns of steel", as he called them in his head and sometimes out loud because they were perfectly not steely, but just plump and comfy enough to be perfect.
Groaning in exasperation - again - and actually banging his head on the wall a few times for good measure, Stiles finally was ready to face the world and his father while not sporting an embarrassingly persistent boner those thoughts—the he totally was not thinking—gave him. Nope. It was all hormones. Even if his heat was nowhere near close.
So he ate and chatted with his father, thoroughly enjoying their plentiful quality time now that he was home and not half a country away. He missed the familiar comfort of their little family, the unconditional acceptance he always felt here, that was like water to a parched man now, even when he mostly adjusted to his new designation.
They were cleaning up the dishes when he got impatient enough to nearly bounce off the walls in a hurry to further test the height of his enchanter's days so far. The Sheriff gave him an exasperated sigh, but finally slipped the chain on his neck and the stone immediately shone with a steady and bright deep green glow of familial affection.
“Ha! I knew you loved me!”
He grinned and jotted down the relevant hues and the strength of the light, already thinking about how to go about eliciting some other emotion.
“Eh... Dad, not to poke where I shouldn't, but testing ideally means both ends of the spectrum, good and bad, so…”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead son, I did agree to this. Whatever this is.”
“Oh! It's an amulet that reads and reflects emotions! Once I perfect the general workings of the enchantment, I'll, hopefully, will be able to increase the range enough so that it would pick up feelings from the distance too and turn it into, sort of an early warning system. We can put it up on the borders, maybe link up in a whole web with remote access, so the second some new big bad comes to town - BAM we're already there and kicking their asses!”
The longer he spoke, or, rather, rumbled, the higher his dad's eyebrows shot up. But his face soon turned to that thoughtful expression he always got when figuring out some particular detail of a new case and that somehow was rather unsettling. Stiles wasn't a case. No figuring out needed, he was just trying to help. That's all.
“That sounds like a lot of work, son... Aren't Derek's pack already patrolling those same borders pretty successfully?”
“Yeah, sure they do. But it's not like they can do it 24/7. Or always pick up on all the things. And then those things come to bite us in the ass. Or the side. More like chomping on those, actually, with their nasty poisoned teeth and just…”
Stiles frowned, his overeager mind easily providing the sickening memory of Derek, laying on the ground and bleeding, bleeding so much from a horrible, jagged wound, blood already tinged with that cursed black, yet still trying to go and help, to save everybody but himself. Stupid, stupid alpha.
“Anyway, an ounce of prevention, a pound of the cure, all that.”
“Sure, son... Whatever you say.”
“What's that supposed to mean? And we were testing! Not talking about me!”
Stiles huffed, his stubborn thoughts catching painfully on probably the best and simultaneously the worst possible way to elicit some strong emotions out of his dad. Who, yes, has given him permission, so he could, but... But nothing.
“So... mom. You know, I really missed her this year. More than usual. Just... all the omega stuff, like sure, I'm cool now, but she always knew just what to say to make it all better.”
“She sure did, son…”
Stiles heaved a heavy sigh, sliding up to his dad's side, who immediately hugged him close, but looked lost in his thoughts. The pendant on his chest glowed with dull blues and purple of old pain, but as second ticked by, it gradually turned... golden. A rather familiar golden too, tinged a lot more with cold mourning hues, sure, but... just that golden the Derek had the other night. The omega's throat felt dry and his hands were shaking slightly when he dared to ask.
“Emm... Dad, you are still thinking about mom, right?”
“Yeah, why? Is your thing doing something weird?”
He looked slightly concerned now, the glow shifting already, but Stiles has barely noticed.
He felt like everything was crumbling, like a house of cards toppled with a careless gesture. All the weirdness of Derek every time they were close, all the weirdness of Stiles himself, all the little and big thoughts that kept hounding him from the second he saw the alpha again...
And then he remembered last night, and when finally, finally reconstructing the events how they actually went and not his hyper-focused brain’s interpretation of them, he swore at himself, for he undoubtedly hurt the man in a very bad, probably the worst way possible. He hurt his... mate...
“Mate…”
“...less! Stiles, dammit!”
His father was frantic by the time he was able to turn his attention on him, scared and gripping his shoulders tight.
“Are you okay? What happened? You smell... What's wrong?”
“Ah... I... Might have done something really, really bad and didn't realize it. And I don't know if I can fix it. But I have to.”
“Well... Apologizing is usually a good way to start.”
It really was, except Derek was clearly hell-bent on avoiding Stiles at all costs now. He ignored his texts, calls and voicemails, he was never home when Stiles went by and even the betas, even Scott—Stiles’ best friend ever—refused to help, admitting with clear apprehension to the omega's begging just "You've really hurt him. He doesn't want to see you. Sorry."
Stiles was so fucked.
It was getting ridiculous now. A week went by and he still couldn't find Derek, no matter how much he pleaded with everybody that he truly wished to apologize. The betas stood firm, more than anybody influenced by their alpha's resolve, but even Allison and Lydia, the first one with regret and another with biting sarcasm refused to help him. So he had to improvise. If only he could figure out how.
Because the truth of the matter was, that the separation messed with him all the more the longer it went on. Before not seeing Derek, not being able to get close or at least close-ish, Stiles didn't ever realize just how much he came to like it or depend on it. He blamed it all on his near-total inexperience with his omega side, with how late it decided to show up (no matter how justifiable the timing was, with all the near-death close calls of his high school years), but it didn't change the fact that he found his mate, almost certainly his true mate too, and just didn't fucking notice!
Until it was too late.
And now when his brain finally caught onto all his body’s signals, every day apart was pure torture, every instinct yelling at him to go to his mate and fix it, to be close again, closer even, to seal the bond, to make it better. It didn't help that he knew he was the one at fault for the falling out, for unwittingly hitting when it hurt the most, it did not help at all.
So there was little surprise that he got a little too desperate and way too reckless, when he decided to head into the woods on the night he knew Derek would be patrolling. He wandered there for hours, calling out to him and begging for a chance to apologize, but the woods remained silent. However, even the steadily dropping temperature, nor the freezing cold rain that covered the preserve with a heavy downpour closer to the dawn did not stop Stiles. His foolish heart was yearning for that one person he needed and managed to drive away in his usual spectacular fashion. So, when the sun peeked out from the stormy clouds, illuminating the drenched forest with its gloomy light he did not go home, no. He went to the loft, empty and silent too, and plopped his soaked and weary body by the door, prepared to wait however long it took to finally see Derek.
He passed out from the cold and exhaustion long before that.
Stiles woke up however feeling plenty warm and rested. Even better - he was all but plastered atop one particular alpha, whose arms were hugging him close to a broad chest, their legs tangled under the fluffy blanket, the very picture of domestic bliss.
“I'm so sorry, Derek.”
Only a long-suffering sigh was his answer and Stiles scrambled up to look into the other man's face, which made his heart clench painfully. Derek looked awful, tired and pale, eyes sunken, and just so... resigned. Like he always expected the worst thing to happen and was just proven right, not really surprised. And he probably was, with his history, and Stiles swore at himself yet again, at how stupid he acted before.
“Not your fault, Stiles. The heart wants what the heart wants. Or, well, doesn't.”
Derek chuckled mirthlessly, staring up into the ceiling and very pointedly not at Stiles, even though his hands hadn't moved to release him or even move away. But the omega was just realizing, that clearly, he's not the only idiot in the room, for the alpha was somehow convinced that the apology was for not returning his affections. Which just would not stand.
“Derek, look at me.”
Stiles pleaded, crawling higher up the man's body, refusing to part from him, but needing for him to see that he was truthful. That he was serious, for once in his life. So he framed Derek's face with his palms, realizing belatedly that his rings were still there, probably cold on werewolf skin, but there were more important matters. Like wiping away that deep-seated misery from his mate's eyes. Preferably forever.
“I am apologizing for hurting you. For being too wrapped up in my own head to not stop in time, before I…” - he gulped, guilt weighing hard on him, but continued on. - “Before I violated your privacy like that. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I am not sorry, however, for what my heart wants, for what I want, so badly, I can't believe I didn't notice sooner, but hey, we already established I'm an idiot.”
He snickered nervously, biting his lip, racking his eyes over Derek's face, curious now, still silent, but cautiously hopeful, just a tiny smidge of "what if" lighting up his pale eyes.
“It is you I want. It was a real epiphany moment too, like who would've thought, right? But then when I actually did think about it, it's so fucking obvious, we... we fit , always did, just couldn't catch up to it with my body being so slow on the uptake. Granted, my brains are even worse, and I was supposed to be the smart one, so…”
He never got to finish, his center of gravity suddenly turned upside down, when Derek, in frankly an impressive maneuver flipped them, a low, possessive growl erupting from his throat as he buried his face in Stiles' neck, hot lips and stubble teasing his skin, and suddenly Stiles was very interested in not talking.
More like whining pathetically, arching his neck to present it to Derek better, his mind quickly fogging with a rush of arousal that raked through him, mixed with relief and a tentative, not really sunk in yet, but already dizzying realization that he found his mate. Really, really did, and he's right here with him, covering his throat with hungry kisses and tiny bites, hips grinding into his own, making him writhe and squirm.
“Shit, shit, Stiles, we…” - Derek mumbled, and groaned as if pained, as Stiles tried to keep him right where he was, not remembering doing it, but already having woven his fingers into the black strands.
“Is it okay? Can I touch you?”
Stiles thought about joking because he was very clearly on board of the touching train, he craved it actually, but the look on the alpha's face, the raw honest expression cleared out his horny brain just enough to scrounge up some very good reasons for clear and unmistakably given consent.
“Yes, anything, go nuts, buddy, totally A-okay with me, green light, full speed ahead…”
“Stiles.”
There was a smile, and a playful growl laced with his name, and his foolish, foolish heart literally skipped a beat just then, his field of view already swallowed by a handsome wolfy face approaching at that exact full speed.
“Just don't bite me,” - Derek stilled, so close, so fricking close, their breath mingled in the heated space. - “Yet.”
That did it, hazel eyes turning bright red and then Stiles was devoured with a searing kiss, that he enthusiastically returned. Things got a bit hazy from that point on.
Derek descended upon him like he was starved, his lips and hands seemingly everywhere, turning Stiles into a moaning mess with terrifying ease. He couldn't remember if they were clothed before, but now there was only a delicious drag of skin on skin, and he reveled in it, scrambling for Derek to drag him closer still so that there was no space in between.
And Derek seemed to like that idea very much with how much he clung to him in return, palms never leaving, caressing and squeezing, digging just on the verge of sharp nails into his hips so he could ground their erections together at a better angle, stealing a needy moan out of Stiles. The alpha kept returning to his neck though, alternating between kisses and just nuzzling into it, rubbing a wicked future beard burn that the human could not find in himself to complain about, because truth be told, the mixing of their scents there was simply intoxicating.
He never really got all that talk about "smelling hot", living so long as a human beta, but right here, right now? He could just roll around in Derek's scent, take a long bath in it, if only he wasn't preoccupied with kissing the man senseless and trying to get his arms to cooperate enough so he could maybe put them on his dick for some much needed hands-on attention.
Stiles giggled and Derek glared, and all was right in the world, even better when the alpha shifted yet again, sliding down and leaving an absolutely filthy hickey on Stiles’ inner thigh, so close to where he wanted it and yet so far away, making the omega keen and spread his legs further, trying to coax some attention to his weeping hole. The werewolf growled, that low rumbling sound going through Stiles' bones straight to his dick and making him even wetter with a new blob of slick sliding down on the bed under the watchful eyes of an alpha. It got kinda lost in all the excitement before, but now all Stiles could think about is how achingly empty he felt, desperately clenching on nothing while his hips kept doing those little unconscious thrusts upward.
“Fuck, you smell so good... Just want to eat you up.”
It was probably Derek's fingers running so damn casually over the damp underside of his cock, teasing, that totally blew Stiles' brain-to-mouth filter—which was never that strong, to begin with. But he hardly could be blamed with every instinct in his body waking up and attacking him with vengeance for all the missed out years of being horny and needy and just wanting to be fucked into the mattress.
“Nobody's stopping you, Der, just saying... I'm all yours.”
Crimson eyes shot up to him, a startled, surprised expression, that did not sit right with Stiles at all. His alpha clearly needed some things spelled out to him right this second. So he sat up, ignoring his slight dizziness and cupped Derek's stupid, beautiful face with his hand, looking him straight in the eyes and doing his best to convey his utter and honest determination.
“I'm yours. All in. Still don’t want the bite right this second, but... I'm your mate. As long as you'll have me.”
It was the longest moment of silence, while Derek searched his face with an unreadable stare, and then... smiled that blinding smile, happy, elated little laugh spilling out of him, and then there were two strong arms gripping the human in a near bone-crushing hug, that felt much like acceptance.
“Good. I'm not really planning on letting you go.”
“Pfff, couldn't keep me away if you tried. I like you way too much.”
Now Derek was all soft smiles and finally, finally relaxed eyebrows - who knew all it'd take is a love confession and some snuggles - and Stiles went for a kiss, slower this time, gentle touches and savoring the taste.
Except it's not nearly enough right now, desire still burning bright in Stiles’ core, still thrumming in his veins, stronger and stronger as he traced the contours of Derek's face with his fingertips, barely believing that he's actually allowed.
Just as he allowed to fall back onto the sheets, dragging the alpha, his alpha with him, hooking his legs on hips to bring him closer, to whisper a fevered please into the kiss, knowing it will be heard, will be satisfied .
And then those damnable lips make a path of fleeting kisses down along his body, and he clutches onto the broad shoulders for support, for some sense of reality as his brain nearly melts with a barrage of sensations because those kisses are now going all down the length of his cock. Hands spreading him, manhandling effortlessly so that he’s totally open and ready and can just moan his pleasure when a skilled tongue darts lower still, circling his entrance.
All Stiles can do now is keen and arch, meeting that wicked tongue on each stroke, that keeps licking into him, lapping up steadily leaking slick with low possessive growls that send delicious tiny vibrations right through Stiles' nerves. It's no surprise that when a careful, probing finger joins that tongue, it sinks in with zero resistance, with the omega so wet and relaxed he could probably take three right now, let alone just one. But even when Stiles whines and begs, Derek does not relent, setting a slow rhythm that the human is sure would drive him insane, because he needs more and he needs it now .
Except the alpha seems rather content with fucking him almost gently with that damn single finger, slowly teasing him with a barely there grazes of the prostate, sometimes pushing in tongue right along in there, driving Stiles to the edge, but not allowing him to fall over just yet. But he can't, it's not enough and he wants to come so badly his head hurts, so he tries to help himself along with some good old-fashioned handjob, but...
“No.”
That commanding alpha voice stops him in his tracks, and he is left even more desperate with how freakishly hot Derek looks between his legs, lips pink and wet, crimson eyes blazing with dominance and lust. He whines, again, and the alpha's face softens, the free hand rubbing soothingly into his side, and those sinful lips pressing a gentle kiss to his thigh right next to the bite mark he left earlier.
“I've got you, Stiles. But you'll come when I want you to come.”
Stiles actually almost comes just from that. But only almost, because Derek catches on, grinning devilishly, making Stiles clench in anticipation, moaning yet again on the delightful but not nearly enough pressure of just one finger. Thankfully, his alpha does not seem too hell-bent on torturing him much more, because he withdraws completely only to return with two fingers, crooking them just right, hitting all the right places, and Stiles can't think anymore. He's sure he mumbles a lot of more and harder and Derek somewhere between all the moaning, but he honestly could not care less, because this time the tempo Derek has set is steady and quick, and then he adds a third finger on one of the passes, not even breaking the rhythm or taking his mouth away.
So Stiles hangs right there on the verge, head swimming and hands shaking with toe-curling pleasure, but he just can't come, because Derek told him to wait, told him he's got him, and he wants to be good right now, wants to obey. And there's certainly some mind reading involved or maybe he looks desperate enough, but right when he's sure he can't take one more second of this and not burst, Derek plunges his fingers deep and precise and swallows his cock to the root in one smooth motion with just one blessed word before.
“Come.”
And Stiles does.
It crushes through him like a wave, drowning out the world around him to a distant white nose, with only blinding pleasure left, pulsing, bursting, dancing along his nerves for one long glorious moment. It lasts for what feels like minutes, stretching on and on, until finally Stiles surfaces somewhere closer to reality where he's wrapped up in the arms of one very snuggly alpha, who nuzzles his neck again, mouthing softly on the spot where the mating bite would go and that thought makes Stiles' tired muscles clench again, sending aftershock tingles all around. He smiles, feeling almost drunk on a postorgasmic stupor, blissfully fucked out and sated... that is until he notices Derek's cock still hard and pressed along his stomach, and the alpha doing seemingly unthinking grinding thrusts, but not really trying to get off per se either.
Except Stiles’ body feels like overcooked noodles, spent and useless and that just won't do when he has some very dirty favors to return. Thankfully, his dear alpha did leave his rings on and all Stiles has to do is concentrate enough on one in particular and its power rushes through him in an energizing flow, rejuvenating in a matter of a second, while also leaving all the pleasant satisfied sensations intact.
Derek doesn't see it though, doesn't notice until it is Stiles who flips them over, settling in a very familiar position straddling his hips, but with very different intentions this time around. He smirks at a dazed, awed expression on the werewolf's face and allows himself a moment to just appreciate all that beauty he's got under him, following his inspecting gaze with inquisitive touches that leave Derek squirming.
So he grinds his hips down, in slow, deliberate motion right over the alpha's hard cock, coating him with his still plentiful slick, drawing out a stuttered groan. It's not nearly enough though and he shifts slightly lower so that he can play with the cockhead, spreading the pre-come with a lazy circling motion that gets him a full out moan, low and desperate. He wants to hear more of those sounds, more of Derek, to take him completely apart, so overcome with pleasure he can never even think about anything else. So he waits until Derek looks up at him, and wiggles his fingers pointedly before bringing them behind himself, balancing with the other hand on Derek's stomach to plunge all four inside his stretched hole to thoroughly coat them, watching his alpha's slack-jawed stunned face through hooded eyes and biting his lip distractedly at the sensation.
He almost wants to leave the fingers right where they are, the low-level arousal still thrumming in him, but he does have more important things to do at the moment. Like grip Derek's length with those same fingers, strokes smooth and easy with all the natural lubricant, and set on to the fascinating journey of figuring out the best angles to drive his alpha mad with lust. It doesn't take long, Derek already almost there, his powerful, graceful form writhing beneath Stiles, threatening to throw him off, but he hangs on, squeezing harder, working him over faster, chasing that delightful edge. He bends over, catching a nipple with his teeth, a gentle bite and rolling over tongue, and that's all it takes, Derek's shaking and moaning just on the edge of a howl, spilling over Stiles' hand with hot spurts, coating his belly and chest and even Stiles' chin with cum.
The alpha groans again when he opens his eyes only to find Stiles licking that cum from his fingers, relishing in their mingled tastes that feel so right on his tongue.
“You're gonna be the death of me…”
“Well, at least it'll be a happy one, right?”
They laugh together, breathless and giddy, falling into one tangled mess of limbs intertwined, not caring for the mess.
Stiles feels high on the afterglow, something settling inside his chest into a sense of completeness he never really felt before, and he wonders if they can actually do this or if it'll truly turn out to be the death of them.
They're probably both fucked since the probability is firmly on the latter with their combined luck…
But Stiles is still determined to try his damn best because Derek is worth it. Fucked or not.