Archive of Our Own ^beta

The illusion of a choice, that’s all it was.

At the end of the evening, all three of them would be given away to complete strangers who would dictate the rest of their lives.

Which part of it was freedom? Why should they be excited about taking their chains from one master and giving them to another?

None of them remembered being free. They didn’t even know where they came from. The three of them — Stiles, Lydia and Allison — just seemed to appear in front of Adrian Harris’ door one day, as wide-eyed children clutching at each other in fear. It took Harris one closer look to take them in, though not out of the kindness of his heart.

They didn’t look like siblings, had nothing in common aside from the pale barely shimmering skin — the telltale sign of a life-long sentence.

Omegas.

All of them were beautiful, of course; graceful, elegant, charming. The softest tilt of their lips, the hint of pearly teeth and the light dusting of blush on their cheeks — anyone was doomed, no matter their innocence.

Harris was an exception; whether it was because of his utter lack of humanity or empathy, they didn’t know. Each time the man looked at them, his eyes filled with a jingly shine of golden coins filling his purse.

Omegas were rare. Myths trailed after them like lost ducklings. They were believed to bring luck and prosperity into the household, not to mention their exceptional reproductive nature. And, of course, the fact that no one was able to tear their eyes away from them.

However, omegas were more than that. Above all, they were a status symbol. It wasn’t even a question of who managed to capture or woo them, no. It was those who were rich enough to afford such luxury as buying one.

Seemed exciting, right? With the smallest exception, of course, which came down to one thing — no one bothered to ask an omega’s opinion.

“I don’t want to be a fucking trinket,” Stiles bit out. Standing near the tall window, he glared down at the endless row of arriving carriages. His forehead rested against the cold glass in a useless attempt to soothe the angry redness of his face.

“Speak for yourself,” said Lydia. Her green eyes bore a hole in the back of his head — Stiles could feel them without even turning.

“I can’t believe the wildness that rules over your mind sometimes,” Stiles threw a minute glance at her from across the room.

Lydia stood in front of a tall mirror while braiding Allison’s curly hair. Her hands were moving with quick expertness that only came from years of experience. She was so good at it that she managed to look up and meet Stiles’ glare in the mirror with one of her own, without stopping.

“I want to be a trinket,” she muttered through her teeth. “If I am nothing but a pretty statuette, they would show me around once in a while, but the rest of the time—” Allison squeaked at the sudden tug Lydia gave her and folded her lips in a pout, “they would leave me alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone, Lydia,” insisted Allison and gave her one of her kind smiles. “Whomever you end up with will love you, I am sure of it!”

Stiles snorted and turned back to the window.

“You’re always like this,” complained Allison. “Both of you.” She looked down at her knees. “As if I'm wrong for wanting love.”

“No one says that,” noticed Lydia. “Is that what you’re going to look for today?”

Allison mirrored the girl’s smile with her eyes shining. “Yes! I’m going to find my fate today, I feel it in my heart.”

“Then visit the apothecary.”

“Stiles!” Lydia snapped. “Stop upsetting her!”

“Lyds, it’s okay. Stiles is just nervous.”

“I’m not nervous, I’m fucking angry.”

The girls sighed.

“Sure,” said Lydia.

“I just…” Allison tried again. “If they love me, they’re going to wish the best for me.”

“Of course, they will. Try to pick one with money, though.”

“Aren’t they all supposed to be rich?”

“They are, but the richest one is mine,” Lydia smiled at her. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Money is everything. I’ll be safe with money.”

“What about you, Stiles?” asked Allison brightly.

“Being treated like a human being would be nice,” Stiles cut her off, unglued himself from the window and walked across the room to the girls. “Both of you look beautiful.”

“As do you.”

It wasn’t a hardship for them to look stunning. Any clothes they put on were bound to be overshadowed by the beauty of their features. It was something Harris took great advantage of, dressing them in the cheapest attires one could allow at an event like this.

There wasn’t much fabric. Omegas weren’t held to the same standards as regular people and therefore could be dressed lightly. To “show off their pretty skin” as Harris told them with a smarmy smile. The bastard.

The girls were wearing white sleeveless gowns with a deep V-shaped cut-out to show off as much of their chest as possible. Harris had obviously attempted to make them look like goddesses of ancient Greece as if pointing out their ethereal nature. He actually succeeded, but that was more of the girls’ accomplishment, than his.

Harris tried to force him into a dress, to which Stiles let it known very loudly that he would rather come out covered in chicken shit. It took a lot of arguing for Harris to finally admit defeat, which he didn’t, really. He just stormed out and came back with breeches and a shirt that was the tailored top part of the dress. Harris wasn’t the one to waste money.

Because Stiles didn’t have breasts, the V-cut ended up being even lower on his body, coming down almost to his belly button. He fucking hated it.

But even more than that he hated that no one would blink an eye at the vulgarity of his improper attire. The three of them would practically be naked in a room full of dressed people, who would stare at them all evening.

One of those people would be his spouse.

“It’s time,” Lydia sighed.

They stood in silence, looking at each other and contemplating the rough twist their lives were about to take until Allison couldn’t take it anymore.

She tugged both of them in a tight hug and whispered harshly in the small space between them. “We are going to be happy, do you hear me?” her voice trembled just a bit, as she tried to convince herself of her own words. “Our futures will be bright and bountiful and full of love. They cannot be anything other than that.”

Lydia didn’t say anything. Stiles put his forehead against their heads and closed his eyes just for a moment, soaking it in. He couldn’t say a word, as his throat was clenched tight in a vice.

He wouldn’t see them, maybe not ever. Until now, the three of them survived just by holding onto each other as tightly as the children’s strength would allow. The only genuine support they could expect in their future would have to come from their children if they lived long enough to have any.

It was going to be a long time.

“Do not forget my love for you,” Allison’s voice wobbled, despite her encouraging smile.

“And mine,” Lydia said quietly, her eyes glassy.

Stiles swallowed. “Mine, too.”

They separated and slowly trickled out of the room in silence, one after the other.

Echoes of music and laughter bounced off the stone walls of Harris’ house, chasing after the three omegas in an invitation to join and play.

No joy occupied their minds, not even Allison’s. Stiles and Lydia knew her well enough to leave her alone in her fairytales; her gentle soul couldn’t bear the weight of the truth sometimes, and they learned quickly enough to let her dream. Anything better than to listen to her heart-breaking sobbing.

Life would be hard. It would be dark with no comfort in sight.

Stiles had to choose his spouse carefully, without knowing how. He had to pick the strongest, the one who would be able to protect him. He didn’t need love because no one would bother to look past his plump lips to see a living soul inside the pretty body. He needed protection. From hunters, collectors, kidnappers. Stiles was a pricy doll, he would be sought after even with a ring around his finger and a child inside his belly.

He had to survive.

There was no other choice.

*

Varnished floors, white marble with foggy spiderwebs of grey, hundreds of candles multiplied by clear reflection in the tall windows. The heavy smell of candlewax dripped into the pools of perfume making an intoxicating concoction of luxury and festivity. Money — everything screamed of it; from the gentle shine of the women’s silky skirts to the rings on the men’s fingers gripping the fizzling drinks.

However, no one thought to pay attention to the intricate ciphers. Not when the omegas were standing on the dais.

Stiles’ legs began to tire from how long he’d been standing. All faces blended together and he desperately wanted to scrub the back of his hand with soap to get rid of the layer of spit, when suddenly pale-looking Harris appeared in front of them.

He was overdressed, like the father of a bride at a beneficial wedding. The smooth black of his tailcoat contrasted distastefully with his aging saggy skin, and the white collar cinched his throat just a bit too tight.

“Behave!” he spat, his lip curling lightly. “The wolves are here.”

Stiles frowned, while Lydia lifted her eyebrows.

“Wolves?” asked Allison, glancing at the entrance.

“The Hales!”

“Werewolves,” Lydia couldn’t help but correct him, but Harris didn’t seem to notice, glancing around like a ferret.

“I didn’t invite their leader,” he whispered harshly. “But he came sniffing, filthy—”

“Is he a royalty or something?” asked Stiles, following Harris’ gaze, but not seeing anyone canine-looking. The man wouldn’t be so nervous about someone of a lower status, so the leader must’ve made quite an impression on him.

“Better,” Lydia muttered and nodded at the entrance to the hall, “he’s an alpha.”

Stiles looked at the newly arrived guest, and the sight made his heart quiver.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with his black hair and full black beard making him look more like a savage than royalty. The furs hugging his shoulders made him look bigger than he was, more feral and dangerous. His scowl certainly didn’t help the matters — he looked ready to kill someone. His blazing red eyes swiped through the crowd harsher than claws, until they stopped on the omegas.

The werewolf started walking towards them, not caring in the slightest about the people scrambling out of his way. If someone were to fall, Stiles imagined he would just step over them like they were nothing.

He was followed closely by five wolfish beasts four-foot-tall in size, with their black, brown and grey fur covering the deadly muscle mass. They swiveled their heads with quiet calmness and deceitful apathy, observing the suddenly silent crowd that compressed itself to the walls.

The air grew heavier with each of the man’s steps. He seemed to catch the eyes of everyone in this ballroom, but none were able to penetrate through his exterior. He didn’t greet anyone, didn’t shake hands (though no one was brave enough to offer him one), and stopped only because Harris jumped in front of him.

“Your Majesty,” Harris widened his lips in an attempt of a smile and spread his hands, “what a surprise! We certainly didn’t expect you in our humble home, what is it that brought you here?”

The werewolf stared at him with the same dark and frustrated expression. His unblinking gaze, trained on Harris’ hunching figure, sent shivers down Stiles’ body. He wasn’t even the one addressing the man!

If Harris was pale before, then now he became whiter than a sheet. He swallowed and squirmed under the predatory gaze of the alpha and his pack; he had just opened his trembling mouth again in a desperate attempt to ease the tension when the alpha moved.

He shouldered past Harris, dismissing him completely, and walked up to Allison, who couldn’t help but stumble back. The man glanced into her wide brown eyes and leaned forward just an inch to take a sniff.

None of them expected him to recoil as if it burned him.

Allison went completely red under his disappointed gaze and shifted in place, clearly not comprehending what she must’ve done wrong. The wolf, however, moved on to Lydia.

The omega lifted her chin in a challenge and looked the wolf into his eyes, hiding an almost unnoticeable flinch in her entire frame as the man leaned for another inhale.

Nothing happened.

The man stared at Lydia for some time with eyes burning like coals and took a step away without saying a word. His face seemed even grimmer than before.

One could hear a pin drop. It seemed, no one in this room was able to take in a breath.

Stiles gulped as the man stepped in front of him.

Nothing indwelled those eyes, besides the fierce redness. Stiles couldn’t read him, couldn’t even begin to guess what was going on inside the wolf’s soul if he even had one. He had to have it, right? There was certainly intelligence behind those eyes, one of the predatory kind that demanded respect and ingrated fear from how unwavering the attention was.

Stiles would like to think he didn’t flinch, but he wasn’t able to concentrate on anything besides the man’s scary face.

The alpha’s gaze slipped down his frame, as tangible as a finger. Stiles felt it trace his chest and down to his stomach, then up and along his clavicles. At last, the wolf leaned in slightly, inhaled...

… and flinched away.

The reaction was even quicker than in Allison’s case. Stiles felt his face heat up from humiliation because this certainly didn’t mean anything good. He was ready for the wolf to step away and come back to Lydia to announce his choice, but the man continued to stand where he was.

Stiles looked up at him again and clenched his teeth in an attempt to stop himself from snapping at the noble guest. The waiting was killing him.

Suddenly, the man offered his hand palm up.

“May I?” he said, his voice so rough from disuse it resembled a growl.

Stunned, Stiles slid his own hand into the wolf’s bigger one and was pleasantly surprised to find it warm. Maybe, because he’d been freezing in his light garments all evening, but it felt like the heat traveled up his veins, warming up his entire body from just one touch.

The wolf lifted Stiles’ hand to his face but turned it at the last second. Stiles stopped breathing as the sharp tip of the man’s nose touched the thin skin on the inside of Stiles’ wrist.

The wolf took another deep breath as if chasing Stiles’ heartbeat, pumping right under his lips. He didn’t break their gaze, not even once throughout their interaction.

Until now.

The wolf’s eyes fluttered close on their own as if he couldn’t help himself. He opened them quickly, but it was enough for Stiles to understand one thing.

The wolf liked his scent the most.

The corner of Stiles’ lips lifted slightly without his bidding. The wolf’s gaze zeroed down on it immediately.

Did all prey feel like this while standing in front of a predator? Body frozen, blood pumping, muscles coiled tight and ready for a run.

It was the most alive Stiles felt in years.

“I choose you.” The wolf’s breath caressed Stiles’ skin, right before the man let go of his hand. Stiles tried not to be disappointed. “Come talk to me when you’re ready.”

Stiles nodded, unable to speak for once in his life.

The world came back to life as the wolf walked away, and he was suddenly able to breathe. He watched with a stuttering heart as the man found himself a seat in the furthest corner of the room looking wildly out of place with cakes and little appetizers that looked small enough to get stuck between his teeth. His entourage walked after him, though didn’t stop and continued on their way outside without any second glances.

The alpha got rid of the furs, revealing his attire as simple, but expensive, with black and grey leather through and through and the collar of a white shirt open just enough to reveal the beginnings of black hairs curling on his chest.

He grabbed the closest glass full of wine and took a gulp, before slamming it down on the table without any particular care. His gaze found Stiles’ again and stayed there.

Stiles jumped as someone grabbed his hands.

“He chose you?!” Lydia shook his entire frame.

“I’m —”

Allison walked up on his other side, frowning and with pinkness fading from her cheeks. “Even if he did, that doesn’t mean you can’t choose another, you know that, right?”

Stiles opened his mouth, but Harris jumped right behind the girls with his gaze boring into Stiles’ face. “Don’t you dare choose an animal! I won’t allow my name to be slandered because my ward chose to fuck a dog.”

Even Lydia flinched at that.

Stiles glanced back at the alpha, but the man’s face remained as gloomy and impenetrable as before. Who knows how good werewolf hearing is? One could hope he wouldn’t have been able to hear what was said with all the murmuring picking up again.

He was certainly looking, though.

“Jealous you won’t be able to watch?” Stiles threw at Harris, his smirk growing as Harris’ saggy cheeks started shaking again.

“Stiles…” Allison admonished, looking around.

He didn’t care. It was the night of him being torn between two cages, frozen in a jump from one to another. This was the first and last breath of freedom he was ever going to get. He was going to say and do whatever the fuck he liked.

He just started stepping down the stairs to go to the wolf, when someone gripped his hand. Stiles turned to snap but froze when he saw Lydia’s tense face.

“Stay with us,” she said with something not unlike pleading in her voice. “Until the greetings end. Please.”

This is probably the last evening we will spend together. We need you to stay until the door is open for all of us, to flee. I can’t do this on my own.

Stiles read all of it on her angelic face. He glanced back at the wolf, both pleased and scared to find his gaze still trained on himself, and sighed.

He walked back and stood next to Lydia, feeling a tiny poke of guilt at the relief laced in her quiet sigh.

The rest of the greetings went at a torturously slow pace. Stiles felt antsy and heated, his smile even less genuine than before. He wasn’t smiling because it was polite but because there was some stability in the act. People looked at him before, with hunger and lust even, but it was another matter entirely to suddenly be under the wolf’s stare.

Stiles knew he was being watched constantly. And it was scary how quickly he found comfort in that particular gaze. Because, if the wolf was watching, others probably wouldn’t in fear of irritating him with jealousy.

Allison’s anxious glances stopped as soon as she found herself a spouse. It was everything she dreamed about, and Stiles was genuinely relieved for her. Once she met wide-eyed Lord McCall, whose jaw was pretty much on the floor the moment his gaze fell upon Allison, she smiled so hard, the dimples appeared on her cheeks. Dimples meant good. Dimples meant happiness.

He somehow missed Lydia’s choice being made, but he was sure it happened. Lydia’s eyes kept trailing somebody through the crowd as soon as she was free, but there were too many people for Stiles to figure out who was the target. It could be Lord Whittemore, but who really knew?

The girls made their choices, then. Stiles couldn’t help but feel relieved.

They would be alright without him. They promised.

As soon as Harris announced the start of the dance, Stiles left the dais, the girls, and seething Harris. He forced himself to walk through the crowd with as much grace as one would expect from him, even if he wanted nothing more than to run to his target and shake the answers out of him.

He felt no guilt in refusing everyone’s request to dance. His life was hanging by a thread, he wasn’t going to fucking dance.

Walking up to the wolf was akin to walking right into his den and laying his neck between his open jaws.

Stiles sat down in front of the wolf, not breaking the gaze, and clenched his fists.

“What can you offer me?” Plain and simple, no games or flirting.

The wolf stared at him for some time, before setting his wine glass aside. He sat upright with his legs spread in a way that almost made Stiles blush and leaned forward with his head inclined in a canine way.

“What do you crave?” he asked in a low voice.

Stiles’ breath hitched. He hoped he didn’t look as anxious as he felt.

“I need… protection. I need to be safe. If I am to put my entire life into your hands, I think I am allowed to demand that at least. Can you give it to me?”

“I think you already know my answer,” the wolf murmured. “You wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise.”

“I can walk over to anyone.”

“You can. But didn’t.” Stiles could swear he saw a hint of something amused in those eyes. Something close to a smile. “You needed the strongest one in this room, and you were smart enough to choose correctly.”

“You must protect me and any child of ours.” Stiles’ heartbeat doubled in speed in its chase for the hope. “Can you swear it?”

The wolf’s eyes glowed redder somehow. “It would be a pleasure of mine to protect you,” he grunted.

“I forbid you to share my body with anyone,” Stiles added, knowing he had no right to demand this. His husband would be in his full right to ignore him and do with his body as he pleases.

The man’s face darkened. “Wolves do no such things. We do not have lovers once we mate.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Stiles expected the wolf to explode in rage and accuse him of offending his culture, but the werewolf just hummed.

“Fair,” he grumbled. “I have yet to earn your trust. But we have time.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to grant me time?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

They stared at each other for a while, trying to figure each other out. The wolf couldn’t be this obtuse; he had to know what Stiles was implying.

He leaned forward a little and gave the wolf a hard stare. “If I were to say “yes” to anyone in this room, they would have me bent over before we even reach the altar,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t feed me lies about time and patience when I know exactly why you’re here.”

The man’s hand reached out so quickly that Stiles missed it in a blink. He grabbed the edge of the chair Stiles was sitting on, right between his spread legs, and tugged it towards himself. The wood scraped loudly over the floor. Stiles barely managed to grab the sides of his chair so as not to topple over the wolf, but the latter was already closer than ever before.

The heat from the man’s body drew a blush on Stiles’ face, so close it was. One of the wolf’s hands gripped the side of the seat, right beside Stiles’ clenched fingers.

“You don’t know my name, yet claim to know my desires,” he bit out in Stiles’ face, his eyes traveling all over his features, angry but determined. “If I wanted a bitch, I would’ve gone and got one. What I want is a mate.”

The last word was spoken with such respect and reverence it stunned Stiles into silence. The wolf’s face didn’t change, radiating aloofness and anger, but his voice spoke of depth that Stiles had only now started to get glimpses of.

This man was a mystery, an enigma. He was hiding himself but at the same time… it felt like he was leaving clues for Stiles to find what was behind that scowl.

“What is your name?” Stiles asked quietly.

The wolf smirked, making heat pool at the bottom of Stiles’ stomach.

“Derek.”

No demands of Your Majesty, then. Interesting.

“You can call me Stiles.”

“Stiles…” the wolf purred. His intense gaze slid down Stiles’ body, from his flushed bared chest to his spread thighs wrapped in tight white fabric. If Stiles were to lean just a bit forward, the wolf’s — Derek’s — face would be pressed against his neck. “I like the sound of it.”

The reaction of Stiles’ body to this light-hearted compliment was surprising, sudden and revealing to the point of embarrassment. Stiles shivered.

Derek noticed, of course.

Stiles could’ve sworn there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes, but the wolf was already leaning forward. Stiles held his breath, as the wolf reached behind him, took the furs off the back of the chair and put them around Stiles’ shoulders, smoothing out the front.

“Better?” he asked.

Stiles was ready to moan at the warmth that enveloped him but managed to keep himself in check. The smile slipped on his lips without his control.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Derek looked over him again. “You might want to dress up once we reach my den.”

Stiles’ heart fell to his stomach.

He got enough of that from Harris, he wasn’t going to bring this dumb rule into his new household. He didn’t like revealing clothes, but if Derek hated it then he’s going to wear them on principle.

“I’m going to dress how I want.”

Surprisingly, Derek huffed. “I’m not going to dictate what you wear, but the weather will.”

Oh.

“I don’t have many outer garments…”

“I’m going to give you everything, don’t worry.”

Stiles glanced up at him, as the sparkle of tentative hope warmed his heart.

“Everything?”

“If you agree to be mine.” Derek challenged.

Did he dare?

It was scary, of course it was. To put himself inside a wolf’s den and seal the gate, to trust a stranger who showed him a sliver of kindness. Both of them were aware that the alpha would have to work long and hard to earn Stiles’ trust.

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

He was tired of everyone’s glances trailing down his body, sick of Harris’ wrinkly face and his idiotic rules. Everyone whispered about him with judgment, though lewdness darkened their gazes.

He longed for a new life.

“Take me away from here,” Stiles whispered so that only Derek could hear him.

And the wolf obeyed.

*

Stiles was sure it was some sort of a test but if Derek thought this would scare him, he was horribly wrong.

Derek watched Stiles closely as he announced that he and his pack didn’t arrive by carriage and Stiles would have to travel on Derek’s back after he transformed into a full wolf.

“I’m keeping the furs,” Stiles said to that and smiled sweetly.

He felt like he passed the test based on Derek’s small smile.

The road was long, but it wasn’t as bad as Stiles thought it would be. Between the furs on his back and the hot body under his belly, Stiles stayed relatively warm; he had to hide his face in Derek’s back fur though when the winds got strong.

Derek guarded him, unwilling to leave his precious purchase even with his trusted guards. He ordered them to hunt instead when they stopped for rests, and busied himself by building a fire and conversing with Stiles.

It felt rather stilted at first, most of all because Stiles couldn’t quite look Derek in his eyes because of the state of his undress. Wolves' bodies brimmed with heat, and with constant shifting the clothes were quite a nuisance. Derek was the only one who shifted, but the sight of his naked sweat-covered torso was enough to make Stiles’ face red. He foolishly hoped to claim the fire as the cause of his heated cheeks if Derek ever asked, but the wolf never did.

At one point, Derek got tired of it. He caught Stiles’ chin, forced him to meet his eyes and… smirked.

“You can look,” he muttered, rubbing Stiles’ chin with his thumb. “But never attempt to hide your ardor from me. It is welcome.”

Stiles’ face grew hotter after being so easily caught, yet he nodded. Something thawed inside his soul at the realization that his reaction meant something, that his feelings were seen and not rejected.

The talk turned smooth after that, though quieter and intimate, as the wolf now sat beside him.

When wolves brought the food, Derek roasted it over the fire and watched with pleasure as Stiles took it from his hands and into his mouth with no hesitation.

No hunger or cold were allowed to disturb Stiles’ rest. Derek found shelter, and kept him warm at night, wrapping his massive wolf form around his body. And wasn’t it ludicrous that Stiles felt less anxious with Derek as a wolf rather than human? He tried to hide the sigh of relief when enormous wolf pressed himself to his slender frame, yet based on the amused huff and a quick lick of a long tongue upon his cheek, he wasn’t successful.

No one else touched him, or entered their abode.

They observed each other during those days, circling in the imitation of a lighthearted play, inquisitive and tentative.

Stiles was watching his every move, and Derek knew that.

*

They married the same day they arrived at the Hale castle. No fanfares, no festivities; Derek had to declare Stiles as his husband to make the ownership of the omega legal. Wolves held no significance to a marriage, as it turned out. The genuine celebration would happen once they were mated, as it was the event of a lifetime.

Derek’s immediate pack counted up to a dozen members, his whole pack up to a hundred, and the people he was ruling over were up to thousands. The amounts made Stiles want to sit down, and he walked wide-eyed for the rest of the day.

Derek introduced him to everyone as his future mate, and Stiles was astounded to find genuine happiness in people’s eyes. Many did stare at him — Stiles knew this was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life because of his appearance — but people were more polite about it and never did it while facing Derek.

Stiles didn’t relax his tight hold on him for that entire day. Derek didn’t seem to mind; perhaps, he even found pleasure in how much his intended needed him.

They ate together, as Derek promised they always would, and then suddenly it was late.

Despite the bravery, Stiles’ heart was beating double as they ascended the stairs.

It was going to happen today, wasn’t it? There was no escaping this. Would the wolf be gentle? Would he hurt him? Scratch him? What if—

Derek led him to the heavy doors made of dark wood and decorated with ciphers, and stopped.

“This is your room,” he said, grasping Stiles’ shaking hand in his steady one. “It is yours and only yours, unless you choose otherwise. Mine is there,” he pointed at the massive set of closed doors at the end of the long hall. “If you need something, just call my name. I will hear your voice no matter what.”

Stiles stared at him. “You’re not…” he cleared his dry throat. “Are we not consummating?”

Derek’s gaze was heavy, however, his touch stayed soft. He lifted his hand and stroked Stiles’ cheek with his knuckles as one would soothe a scared animal.

“You will always be welcome in my bed, kitten. Whether it’s for comfort or love. It would be a blessing to share my bed with you and I shall die before refusing. But you are not ready, and your comfort has a lot more value than my desire. You must be the one to come to me.”

“And you will wait?” Stiles asked, his voice full of doubt and hope.

“I’ll be thinking of you the entire time,” Derek smirked and pushed the tip of Stiles’ nose up with his folded finger. “I doubt anything will ever occupy my thoughts as much as you do.”

“Is this something I am to apologize for?” Stiles’ body grew steadier as the worry slowly left his mind.

Derek chuckled. “No. It’s nice.” He took Stiles’ hand and pressed his lips to the inside of his wrist. “Sleep well, angel. This is your home; nothing will hurt you here, not when I’m close. I’ll come for you in the morning.”

Stiles nodded. His body was getting tired with every passing second now that the battle it was readying itself for didn’t happen. And if the wolf was to keep his word, just like he did all this short time they spent together…

Derek inclined his head a little in a respectful bow, gave Stiles one of his small barely noticeable smiles and went to his rooms.

“Goodnight, Derek,” Stiles called after him, shy for some reason.

The alpha turned his head and winked at him, still walking.

Determined not to embarrass himself any further, Stiles hurried into his new bedroom and shut the door behind himself, locking it just in case. He changed in a fogged haze, before falling onto the soft bed.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

*

“It’s really bothering you.”

Stiles hummed distractedly, picked up the rook and moved it a couple of steps forward. Lifting his gaze up, he blinked at the wolf’s expectant expression. “What?”

The corner of Derek’s lip curled up. He pushed his fist away from his chin, took the pawn and put it in front of the rook. “The attention. You don’t like it.”

Stiles’ gaze unwittingly swept to the opposite corner of the room, right behind his husband’s shoulder.

The lords of the advisory court immediately turned toward each other, whispering to themselves harshly.

Stiles sat up straight with his chin lifted high, and cleared his throat. “My disposition plays no matter in the fact that it is not illegal to stare. Unfortunately.” He grabbed the knight and pushed it forward. “Check.”

But Derek didn’t move his narrowed eyes from Stiles’ face. Spread languidly across the armchair, he rubbed his chin, studying every inch of the omega’s tense features, from the clenched jaw to his eyes constantly sneaking toward the corner of the room.

“You know you dictate the law here, on par with me?” he asked quietly.

“Check.”

“Angel.”

Stiles huffed. “My word for them is akin to a chirp of a nightingale. Beautiful but useless. That is if they would even hear what comes out of my mouth, instead of just gawking at it.”

The ferity painted the wolf’s eyes in blood, but the omega ignored him. With a frustrated huff, Stiles moved pieces along the board, both his and Derek’s, until, at last, the king was trapped.

“Checkmate,” Stiles smiled victoriously and leaned back. “Agai—”

“Pick one.”

Stiles frowned. “What?”

“Pick one,” Derek repeated and nodded his head in the direction of the lords. “Whose eyes are the most unwelcome?”

Stiles pursed his lips and glanced at the men. Each of them was more unwelcome than the other, their stares like hands grabbing him in all places. Sighing, the omega waved his hand. “Lord Daehler?”

The wolf smiled, his fangs cutting through the open mouth with their sharpness. He stood up and offered Stiles a hand.

“Let me show you something.”

Bewildered and alive, Stiles put his hand in Derek’s. His heart was picking up pace in suspense, as the alpha called for Lord Daehler. The man obeyed while paling with every step.

“Your Majesty?” he croaked, his small eyes running between the royal pair.

But Derek didn’t pay him any mind. Swiftly, he pulled an acuate dagger from the sheath at his belt, grabbed Stiles’ hand and encased it over the handle, closing his own hand over it.

The reaction was immediate. Stiles nearly dropped the weapon, alarmed at what the wolf’s intentions were, but Derek only tightened their joined grip. Lord Daehler faltered, with his cheeks sinking in from horror. He took a step back, his wide deathly gaze on the blade, but then—

“Don’t move,” Derek ordered quietly.

Stiles froze along with Daehler, his breathing quick and mouth dry. At last, the wolf put an arm around Stiles’ stomach and pressed his front to Stiles’ back. With his hot breath caressing Stiles’ ear, the wolf pulled their hands up.

The tip of the dagger kissed the thin skin underneath Daehler’s left eye.

“Your… your Majesty…”

“Look at him.” Derek’s beard rubbed on Stiles’ cheek. “Look at how he’s shaking. You think he’s afraid of me?”

The wolf released his grip on the dagger, leaving it in complete control of Stiles’ hand.

“He’s at your mercy,” murmured Derek with something akin to pride sweetening his voice.

Stiles and Daehler’s gazes locked. To his own astonishment, the sinking pit in the omega’s stomach started to slowly fill again. He would’ve laughed at the feeling, if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“Do you feel it? The power?” asked Derek, his hands settling heavily on Stiles’ waist.

Stiles swallowed.

“Yes.”

It thrummed inside his chest, raced along his veins, sizzled his blood to life. Is this what being in control felt like?

Daehler’s breathing was harsh, yet stifled. A droplet of salty sweat dribbled down his forehead to his eye, and it was obvious the man was afraid to blink the stinging away.

“Please,” he moaned.

“I think he knows what will happen if he dares to look upon you again, hmm?” a smile sang in Derek’s predatory voice. A dangerous, threatening, but exhilarating smile.

Stiles leaned back into him, putting his other hand on Derek’s locked ones. This tiny movement was enough for the blade to nick the paper-thin skin under Daehler’s eye. The tip of the dagger was instantly covered in red.

“Do you?” Stiles asked, staring at Daehler.

But the lord refused to meet his eyes. He never would, again.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

*

Derek often took him around his property, through gardens and mazes, farms and stables, led him through the secret tunnels and passages around the castle.

“This is your property, too,” he told Stiles.

Stiles had never owed anything before, not even himself. Everything belonged to Harris, and the man liked to remind him of that. Stiles didn’t know whether Derek realized how much it meant to him but hoped that he did.

Stiles looked at the paintings of Derek’s family, barely able to remember the names because of the sheer amount of people. He listened to Derek’s stories, and picked up on how nostalgic and melancholic his voice was. Derek was generous in sharing his memories, but the absence of those people told a bigger tale.

The ease with which Derek told him everything, the secrets he was entrusting Stiles with — nothing went past Stiles’ heart. The man remained honest and open, proving himself to Stiles each and every day.

Still, the soft trembling flame inside his own soul surprised Stiles. It built and grew, with every gift, every smile and touch, every promise fulfilled.

Stiles was falling in love.

*

He lasted two weeks before the flame of his pride was mercilessly stifled by simple coldness.

Derek didn’t lie when he told Stiles about the weather ruling alongside him in the Hale lands. The whistling winds sneaked through the tiniest crevices despite how sturdy and thick the castle walls were. No amounts of furs Derek gave him were able to still Stiles’ shudders.

He was beyond fed up with having fingers that grew wooden from the cold, with having to sleep under the stifling mountain of covers and, come morning, cling to his wolf with his hands pressed around the man’s biceps.

Stiles was so frustrated and uncomfortable that he was ready to cry. He couldn’t fall asleep despite the late hour, with loud winds and coldness gnawing on his slender frame.

He cursed under his breath, kicked the covers off himself and jumped off the bed. The floor was freezing; Stiles hissed and hurried to shove his feet into the mules.

He didn’t take the candle with him. He wasn’t going far.

Stiles stormed outside but slowed down as he walked to the heavy doors to Derek’s bedroom, glancing at them in indecision.

He didn’t want to go back to his cold bedroom and his freezing bed, alone, angry, and tearful. He knew for a fact that wolves run hotter than humans and he was familiar with the amount of heat Derek’s body produced. It kept him warm in caves and on the bare forest floors when they traveled.

They slept together before and so what if Derek was in his wolf form all the time? They were married, for heaven’s sake… And… And so what if wolves didn’t care about marriage? They weren’t mated, yes, but they were going to be. Stiles had the right to ask for comfort, didn’t he? Derek told him he could.

No, this was so stupid. Pathetic little omega, married to a fucking wolf and can’t last a night in his thin skin without freezing to death.

Stiles’ eyes burned as he stared at the door handle. He had his frozen arms hidden in his armpits, but that only made him colder. He was so miserable and he wanted to sleep and he wanted to be warm and he wanted his fucking husband!

Fuck this.

Fuck all of th—

Stiles turned to go back to his bedroom at the exact moment when the door opened.

With his heart skipping a beat, Stiles glanced back.

Derek stood in his long white nightgown open at his chest; he had one hand on the door and his eyes trained on Stiles. They seemed almost blank, and there wasn’t enough light for Stiles to search his face for any signs of emotion.

He was tired.

“I’m cold,” Stiles blurted out and felt his face immediately heat up. “And I can’t sleep. Do you— I mean, would you mind if I— ” Stiles closed his eyes and breathed out. “Can I sleep next to you?”

Derek didn’t say anything. His eyes changed color from hazel to red and back; he took a step back and opened the door wider.

Stiles hurried inside with his heart fluttering in his chest. He nearly jumped when Derek put a hand on his lower spine to guide him through the darkness to his giant bed.

Stiles knew that when they settled in Derek wouldn’t move a muscle. The wolf was clear in his desire for Stiles; it was in his constant scenting and light touches, in the way his arm always seemed to find its way around Stiles’ shoulders or his waist. More importantly, it was in his words and in his eyes.

Stiles knew him enough to realize that the wolf wouldn’t touch him in this setting. Not if Stiles comes to him first.

Putting all embarrassment aside, Stiles moved across the bed and tucked himself to Derek’s side. He was a little afraid to look at him, so he hid his face in Derek’s neck, pressing his cold nose into it. His hands found their way onto Derek’s chest, careful not to touch any skin, because Stiles would explode if he did. He tucked his freezing feet between Derek’s shins and then, finally relaxed.

Derek was so delightfully and incredibly hot. Stiles breathed out in relief, and a quiet moan slipped out, however, he was too comfortable to acknowledge it in any way. The heat of Derek’s body made Stiles melt into the sheets. He was already getting sleepy, which was a surprise for him because he was lying in bed plastered over the insanely beautiful man who made his insides flutter.

When all hope was nearly gone, Derek moved his arm around Stiles, caressing his spine back and forth, and subsequently pressing Stiles closer to him.

The wolf stayed silent, and soon Stiles fell asleep in his arms.

*

The kiss was born out of a desperate bout of possessiveness mixed with the aftermath of longing and doubts. However, the fact that it happened and Derek’s reaction prevailed above any excuse.

There were days when Derek was busy. Pack, people, land — nothing could run without Derek’s orders. Derek always asked Stiles if he wanted to join him in meetings; sometimes Stiles agreed, other times he had too much energy to sit still for several hours. Derek let him do whatever he wanted, as always.

Stiles didn’t know what happened to him, but when he heard someone proposing to Derek when he was walking past the closed doors to the courtroom, he lost it.

He could barely see anything from the sudden rage that filled his soul. He slammed open the doors.

Everyone stared at him, advisors, pack members, guards, and the unfamiliar pack that had come with a friendly visit to the Hale lands. Their alpha was a strong and beautiful lady with dark skin and black braids falling gracefully off her shoulders to her waist. Her eyes flashed red as Stiles marched to Derek’s throne right through the center. She didn’t react when he shouldered past her without even looking; she probably thought of him as a disobedient human pet or something and wasn’t finding any threat in his slight frame.

With his face steadily growing red, whether from anger or embarrassment, Stiles walked up to very amused Derek, stared at him for several seconds with a challenge in his eyes and then sat right across his lap.

Stiles put his arm around Derek’s shoulders, and, somewhat encouraged by Derek’s arm sliding around his waist and the other on his thigh, turned to give the visiting alpha a wide grin.

“You were saying?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Derek pursing his lips in an attempt to stifle laughter, but he ignored the wolf.

How. Fucking. Dare. Someone to come for what was his? Fucking sure, they weren’t mated yet, but that shouldn’t change fucking anything.

Oh, Stiles was boiling and ready to bite someone.

He didn’t know if Derek was going to be mad at him for behaving like this, for bringing offense and disrespect to another alpha, but Stiles just… He couldn’t let anyone take this away from him.

“I simply offered alpha Hale to consider mating with me,” the alpha smiled back at him.

Oh, she was— And she said that to his face?!

Stiles opened his mouth but stopped at an inhale when Derek gripped his thigh. He swiveled his head to glare at the wolf, but Derek didn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s an honor for me to receive such an offer from you,” he said with a barely contained smirk, and tightened his grip when Stiles opened his mouth again — because why the hell was he thanking her for it? “but, I’m afraid, I have to refuse for I have already made my choice. As you can see.”

The woman inclined her head and smiled back at him in good nature. “Indeed, I do. I’ve been thinking about furthering our allyship for a long time. Too long, it seems. You’ll have to excuse me; the news doesn’t travel as fast as we would prefer it to.”

“No need to apologize, Braeden.”

Why the hell was he still smiling? And since when was Derek on the first-name basis with that she-wolf?

If Stiles’ gaze could burn, this Braeden would’ve been long since incinerated. He hated that everyone was looking at him and whispering among each other, that all of them were smiling, including that alpha and Derek.

Stiles’ cheeks burned with humiliation. He wanted nothing more than to storm away to his old and cold bedroom so that no one would be able to make a spectacle out of him. He thought he left all of that behind, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.

He stayed, however. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes except for the strange alpha’s, he didn’t smile back, nor did he say a thing. He bore through the small talk and some sort of an allyship treaty, even though he couldn’t hear a thing behind the ringing in his ears.

At last, the visiting pack left them.

“Hey.” Derek lifted Stiles’ chin with his finger, trying to catch his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“Nothing.”

Derek’s eyes burned the side of Stiles’ face but he refused to look back and stared at the golden button on the wolf’s lapel.

“Are you staying?” Derek asked. His soft tone only added fire to the flame Stiles was feeling inside. “I have some other people to meet.”

“I am,” Stiles bit out and then added without thinking. “Who knows if I would have a husband at the end of the day if I leave you alone.”

Derek didn’t react. His thumb continued to stroke the inside of Stiles’ thigh.

After what felt like forever, Derek said gently. “I refused, didn’t I?”

“She shouldn’t have asked you in the first place.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not mated yet. It was easy for her to mistake you for my lover.”

The words pierced Stiles’ heart like spears. He felt the blood drumming in his temples and his eyes stung.

“I’m your husband, not a lover.” Stiles finally looked at Derek, his heart clenching at the gentle curiosity in his hazel eyes.

“For wolves, there’s not much difference,” Derek reminded.

Stiles stared at him with a sinking feeling.

So that’s who he was to Derek? That’s how everyone perceived him? Just another whore out of lord knows how many. Stiles was just a toy, a doll, a trinket. As he always was.

In a lightning-fast move, Stiles pressed his lips to Derek’s, hard and desperate.

“Does this also not make any difference?” he said with his voice breaking, then pushed Derek away, jumped off his lap and ran out of the room without looking at anybody.

His mind was reeling at the sight of his dreams falling apart right in front of him, accompanied by laughter. If there was one thing that was made clear to him, it was that he should’ve let Derek fuck him that first night. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been a laughing stock.

Oh, look, that’s Stiles — a lover, a husband, and, honestly, who fucking cares? He was no one to wolves, not even to the one that mattered. Were all of them laughing at him this whole time? At how he squirmed and ran from Derek, at how the wolf was indulging him and playing with his prey, while knowing full well he would end up fucking the omega anyway.

Mates didn’t have lovers, but he and Derek weren’t mated. So how many others did he have now? Granted, the wolf was with him pretty much all the time, but who fucking knew?

He was a fucking naïve idiot who believed in his own fairytale. No one took him for a living, thinking being, and it was stupid of him to think that someone ever would.

Stiles should fuck Derek, lock himself in his bedroom and bear his child like a good ome—

He let out a shout as someone grabbed him from behind. Within seconds he was spun and pushed against the wall. Realizing that it was Derek, Stiles steadied his gaze on the same fucking button on Derek’s chest and clenched his jaw.

“You can’t just run away like this and expect me not to chase.” Derek’s voice was worryingly calm and quiet. He put his hand on the side of Stiles’ neck and traced the edge of Stiles’ jaw with his thumb. “Look at me.”

When Stiles didn’t immediately obey, Derek put pressure under his chin, making Stiles lift his head. Stiles, however, shifted his gaze to the ceiling instead.

The wolf let out a growl. “Stiles.”

“Should I be glad you remember my name?” Stiles bit out, his voice tight. “Do you call all your lovers by the name just as you did with her? Or did you call her “kitten” when you fucked her?”

“You cannot blame me for something I have not done.”

“Right, who am I to blame you for anything?” Stiles just kept going. His soul kept bleeding. He blinked a stray tear out of his eyes and smiled without an ounce of kindness. “I am not your mate, not a lover, barely a husband. Good enough for a jester, though, right? Just, please, give me a heads up next time you want to laugh at me so I can prepare.”

“Should I remind you that you’re the one stalling the mating?”

“You let me!”

“Yes, I let you,” Derek softened his voice. “Sure, baby, I did, because I care about you.”

“You laughed at me!”

Both of them stared at each other. Stiles struggled not to let more tears escape his soul, but they kept coming. Nothing that happened today hurt as much as Derek joining in the laughter. He was used to being belittled and dismissed, he would’ve got through all of it, were it not for Derek.

Suddenly, the wolf grabbed him by the throat. He didn’t press, just encased it with his hand. Stiles stopped breathing. He knew very well that his life could be over in one swipe.

“You will get out of your head right now and listen to me,” Derek growled in his face. He waited a bit to see if the omega would obey, and continued, his breath caressing Stiles’ lips. “Do you know how much control it takes for me not to fuck you at night?”

Stiles stared at him, because… what?

“When you press your whole body to mine, when you seek the heat of it, the comfort I so freely give you? Wolves don’t bare their necks to just anyone, yet you have your lips pressed to my veins every night. It takes everything for me to remain still when all I want is to turn you over, spread your legs and fuck you until you lose your breath.”

Stiles became awfully aware of Derek’s strong body, trapping him against the wall. They were pressed chest to chest, hips to hips, so close and intimate.

“I don’t know how you think I can even have lovers when you are all I think about. You’re here,” Derek tapped his own temple, “constantly. I need you to be with me every second of the day. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to let you go each time? I barely hear what people say, all I want is to howl and run until I find you.”

The wolf cupped his jaw, and Stiles grasped at his wrists instinctively. He watched as Derek’s gaze fell to his lips, and his eyes flared red. It made him think of every time they went red, seemingly out of nowhere and Stiles just shrugged his shoulders like an idiot.

Derek wanted him all this time.

And his control was hanging by a thread.

“I didn’t laugh at you,” Derek said, his growl melting into his usual voice. “I was happy at your stunt because it means you like me enough to do it. You want me enough to show your claim on me to a strange alpha in the presence of her pack. You challenged her, Stiles. We’re lucky I’ve known her for a long time, otherwise, she would’ve forced you into a battle.”

Stiles inhaled sharply at that, making Derek chuckle.

“I wouldn’t have let her anyway, don’t worry. She was happy for me too, actually. Like a friend would be for another friend,” he pressed, looking right into Stiles’ eyes. “It’s the first time you put such a strong claim on me. You were brave. No one was laughing. They were relieved.”

Derek released him and went quiet.

Believing that someone was actually willing to treat him well and in good faith was worse than pulling teeth. Everything in Stiles resisted that notion and tugged him back into the morass of doubt and resentment. It was what he was used to, after all, something familiar, something he knew how to deal with.

“Don’t lie to me.” It came out more like a plea, rather than an order. “I can handle a lot, be it your lovers or your laughter, but you have to be truthful.”

“Werewolves don’t lie,” said Derek and tapped Stiles’ chest. “We hear lies so there is no point in them. That’s why everyone deems us cruel,” his smile was small but dark. “I have nothing to gain in lying to you, angel.”

And he was right. Derek had Stiles at his full disposal. If he wanted to keep him for sex, then he would have. He had a full right to it. But he did none of that.

Derek was patient and kind. It was his honesty that dug through Stiles’ suspicion right to his heart.

Stiles trusted him once in choosing him. Did he dare to trust him in this?

“Do you really want me to be your mate?” he asked because that was still the thought he couldn’t get used to. A mate for a wolf was a sacred treasure, a careful meticulous thoughtful choice.

“Yes.”

“You saw me once, smelled my wrist and you’re telling me that was enough?” Stiles huffed in disbelief.

Derek inclined his head. “It wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

Stiles frowned. “I’ve never left the manor’s walls.”

“Harris had your portraits painted. He sent them out to potential buyers to lure more people in. One of the portraits reached me.” Derek lifted his hand and traced Stiles’ jaw with a soft reverence. “I stared at it for days, but even that couldn’t prepare me for how beautiful you turned out to be. I scented others just to be sure it wasn’t the omega charm. But it’s just you, isn’t it?” Derek smiled at him. “Smell tells wolves a lot about a person. Your feelings, your pain, your joy and pleasure. I smelled it all on you that day. Your blood traveled through your heart to your wrist just to tell me secrets about you. I knew what you would bring into my life if you were mine. I wanted it then, and I want it still.”

Stiles lowered his gaze, his mind a mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, quiet and full of sorrow. “I said so many things…”

Derek stroked his cheekbone. “Don’t. I know it’s hard for you. You’re used to being lied to and played with. It’s going to be a long time until you fully realize that wolves are different. I’m willing to wait.”

Stiles closed his eyes and pushed himself into Derek. He stayed like that for a long time, with his head against Derek’s shoulder, the wolf’s arms around him and his lips against the crown of Stiles’ hair.

There weren’t any lovers. Derek wanted Stiles for longer than he thought. Stiles was a constant presence in the alpha’s mind.

Derek wanted him. Stiles was enough.

He tried to swallow a tight lodge in his throat, before leaning back in the circle of Derek’s arms. Derek’s eyes were open and honest, with kindness, understanding and amusement shining through.

Stiles kissed him.

This was what kissing felt like. Not his little stunt in the throne room, but this. Greedy hands, gripping his body, beard rubbing against his chin. Tiny sighs and rumbles of pleasure.

Derek kissed him like it was the last thing he would ever do. When Stiles opened his mouth to gasp for air, Derek didn’t waste the opportunity, hungry for each little thing Stiles was willing to give him. He slipped his tongue inside, caressing Stiles’, sucking and biting on it with fervor and passion.

Soon, Derek let him breathe but didn’t let go. He kissed Stiles’ cheeks and around his lips, catching them between his teeth. He bit Stiles’ jaw before shifting onto Stiles’ neck.

Stiles had never felt this wanted. Lewd gazes were nothing compared to the way Derek held him — as if he was the most precious being that was somehow gifted to him. Derek kissed his neck, sucked his marks onto it just to lick them afterward, and got rewarded with Stiles’ bemused and desperate gasps of air right next to his ear.

Stiles couldn’t handle the grasp on the world around him. He just clutched at Derek, hoping the wolf would keep him standing, and closed his eyes.

Derek’s touch spoke of awe, as if he wanted to bring Stiles pleasure; not to gain something but because he wanted Stiles to experience it. Like Stiles deserved to be kissed and worshipped every day, and Derek was somehow blessed to be the one to do it.

They lost count of time, standing in each other’s embrace. As soon as they parted, they longed to reunite again.

Panting and breathless, they stood in the dark hall, hidden from everyone. Their kisses slowed down and melted into a soft exchange of tenderness, with small kisses being dropped here and there. At last, the passion mellowed out enough for them to remember about life.

“Are you coming back with me?” Derek asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Stiles sighed and put his face into Derek’s neck, closing his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I just… don’t want anybody to look at me.”

“I’ll order them not to,” Derek said, completely serious.

Stiles smiled.

*

Derek started touching him more after that. It’s almost like once he got his permission, nothing could stop him.

Stiles started going to the meetings more and, even if he didn’t participate, he took papers and books with him to learn more about the wolves’ culture. Sometimes Derek reached out to him to stroke a knuckle down his shoulder, rub his thumb along his back, or trace his jaw. It wasn’t long until Stiles got used to it enough to not notice it.

The warmth of Derek’s palm on Stiles’ lower back became a daily occurrence. Little touches here and there blended into a background noise so much that Stiles felt weird when they were apart and the constant tender warmth wasn’t there.

Sometimes in the evenings, Derek came to Stiles’ little nook in the castle’s library and fell onto the sofa Stiles was lying on. He put his head on Stiles’ stomach, wrapped his hands around him as if Stiles were his pillow, and relaxed maybe for the first time that day.

Stiles noticed that Derek got nonverbal when he was tired. It often happened after he had a busy day filled with visitors and his advisors arguing with each other under his ear. Stiles didn’t mind. When Derek’s body sagged against his legs, pinning him to the soft seat, Stiles pushed his fingers through Derek’s hair, knowing it would calm him down. Sometimes Derek caught his hand, buried his nose into his palm or his wrist and fell asleep from the comforting scent.

Stiles stared at the wolf, strong, scary and vicious, falling asleep on his lap like it was nothing, trusting Stiles not to slit his throat and escape into the dawn. Stiles’ heart hurt from how much soul remained hidden behind the tough exterior.

And the kisses… Oh, the kisses.

Derek loved kissing him. He looked drunk after one of their first longer sessions, making Stiles giggle at his serene face. The wolf made sure Stiles woke up with kisses and fell asleep after them as if he just couldn’t allow Stiles to go without it.

His mouth claimed Stiles’ over and over. His hands fondled Stiles’ body, sometimes shaking from not being able to explore more. His sultry growly voice told of things so intimate and private, that it made Stiles blush from the sheer memory of it.

Derek wanted him. He made it known very clearly and displayed it proudly and openly. He wanted more.

And the thought of it refused to leave Stiles’ head.

Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps, Derek will be gentle with him, like he was with kisses. He was attentive and could read Stiles’ reactions better than the omega himself. He always made sure Stiles was comfortable, satiated and pleased. Derek would make him feel good, right? If he was with Derek, then… Then maybe there was nothing to be afraid of.

Stiles should’ve known, in the end, that like with everything in his life, the choice would be taken out of his hands.

*

“Sweetheart…”

Stiles pursed his nose.

Someone laughed. “Kitten, come on, I can’t let you sleep here.”

“I can sleep wher’ver I wan’,” Stiles mumbled.

“I’m sure you’d rather sleep in bed.”

“Mm-no.”

Stiles heard Derek chuckle from somewhere above him. A moment later soft lips started kissing the corners of his mouth and his lips. The beard prickled Stiles’ skin, but that didn’t really matter to him. He was melting from the wolf’s attention.

“Come on, get up,” said Derek and grabbed his hands to pull him up.

Stiles opened his eyes and pouted at him. He just wanted to sleep. The book he was reading seemed interesting enough, and he didn’t expect to fall asleep at all.

Stiles got up with Derek’s help, but his knees gave out pretty much immediately.

“Easy.” Derek caught him against his side. “Are you alright?”

“Mm-yeah,” Stiles blinked hard. “Guess, I’m tired.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, then promptly swooped Stiles into his arms. The omega grasped at his shoulders, squeezed his eyes shut and put his forehead against Derek’s neck, whining.

“Derek! Put me down, I’m heavy.”

Derek snorted. “It’s funny that you think that.”

“Well, I feel heavy.”

“And I feel that you need to relax and let me take care of you.”

Stiles mumbled gibberish and let the wolf indulge in his instincts.

Derek carried him all the way to the bedroom. Stiles was partly aware of being lowered onto the bed, and that his shoes and upper clothes were taken off. Normally, Stiles would’ve gone red from such attention, but tonight he was so tired he didn’t protest.

The last thing he was aware of was Derek’s lingering kiss on his forehead.

*

“Let me go.”

Derek’s hand only tightened around his waist. “Where are you going?”

“Let me go!”

At Stiles’ panicked voice, the pressure was lifted instantly.

Tearing the covers off himself, Stiles slid across the bed and landed on the floor on shaky legs. The chill of it felt so nice…

He needed… needed…

Stiles stumbled around in the general direction of the balcony until his hands grasped the brass handle.

“Stiles!”

A strong wind blew right in his face, making him lose his breath. He gasped and felt the snowflakes melt on his tongue. The freezing cold wrapped around his body like a reverse blanket, like a balm. Stiles tried to take another step when suddenly strong hands wrapped around his waist.

“No-o,” Stiles whined.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Derek growled in his ear, lifting him off the floor.

Stiles tried hard to pluck Derek’s fingers off himself, but he was really nothing but a weak kitten in comparison to a giant alpha werewolf.

Derek dropped him on the bed, then jumped to close the balcony doors. Stiles was already crawling back to the edge of the bed when he met Derek’s glowing angry eyes and whined.

“Please, Derek, it’s so hot in here,” Stiles was ready to cry. He felt the disgusting droplets of sweat running down his neck. And why the hell was he still wearing those ugly scratchy clothes?

Stiles grasped at the strings on his nightgown and tried to untangle them so he could push his head through, but fingers refused to listen. It was almost like they were made of wood.

“Hey, hey.” Derek encased Stiles’ trembling fingers in his fist and put his hand against Stiles’ cheek. His gaze was clear and full of concern, his eyes ran quickly over the omega’s face and body. “It’s going to be alright, baby, hey, listen to me. I think I know what’s going on with you.”

“It’s too hot!” Stiles scrunched his nose. Why was Derek not helping? Wasn’t he supposed to take care of him? Stiles’ eyes burned suddenly. “If you’re not going to help, then let me go!”

Derek took Stiles’ face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you’re going into heat.”

“Into a what?”

Derek frowned. “A heat, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked at him with an open mouth. “Am I ill, or something?”

Derek stared at him.

Suddenly tired, Stiles grasped Derek’s wrists and took them down, so that he could rub his sleeve across his sweaty face.

“Wait, why are you so cold,” Stiles frowned and took Derek’s hands. “Are you sick, too? Do werewolves even—”

Derek ripped his hands out of Stiles’ hold, jumped off the bed and started pacing. He raked his fingers through his hair and stared in front of himself with an unseeing gaze.

“Please, tell me you know what a heat is.” His voice was so low Stiles could barely hear him.

He didn’t understand what was going on with Derek, why he looked so panicked, wide-eyed and simultaneously ready to tear someone’s throat out.

“I know what a heat is,” Stiles said carefully, and Derek’s gaze swiveled towards him. “Like, from the fire. Why are you even asking me this, I’m not stupid…”

“Did that fucker not tell you?!”

“Who told me what?” Stiles whined, as his body jerked from a spasm. “Please, I just need some time outside…”

“Harris,” Derek snarled his name as if it offended him. “I’m going to kill him, I swear on my life—”

The wolf breathed out, came back to bed and sat across from Stiles, taking his hands.

“Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me very clearly.” He seemed so serious it made Stiles’ heart jump from anxiety. Derek’s eyes were wide and wild, angry and heartbroken as if he was about to bring the worst possible news to Stiles. “Omegas have what you call a heat. When an omega finds a suitable mate, they enter a specific state. It is used as a means of procreation.”

“WHAT?”

“Listen. You are going to feel very uncomfortable. In pain, even. Your body will force you to submit in order for a successful conception. Nothing will satisfy you. Nothing but sex.”

“Tell me you’re not just saying that because you’re tired of waiting,” Stiles whispered, his voice breaking.

“Oh, baby…”

As Derek told him about the heat, Stiles’ face went from angry red to scarily pale. Based on Derek’s detailed descriptions he was hiding nothing, brutal with the truth as always. By the end of it, Stiles had his head in his hands. It wouldn’t hide him from the world, but he had to have a minute to breathe.

“I thought you were embarrassed to tell me,” Derek confessed in a quiet voice. “I was waiting for you to say something but when you didn’t…” He sighed and raked a hand through his tousled black hair. “We don’t have much time. I know it’s scary, but you have to decide now.”

“Decide?” Stiles croaked.

“I can have a chamber ready for you. It’s going to be warm in there, and I’ll bring you food, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything—”

“Am I… Am I going to be there alone?”

Derek watched him closely, his jaw clenched tight. “If that’s what you want.”

Stiles didn’t. His body was about to go through a horrible experience; lord knows what would happen to him or if he would even be able to do anything besides scream his lungs out. While he was civil with servants, he didn’t trust them enough to let them in when he was so vulnerable.

There was one person who he longed to have with him, whom he could entrust the care for his body, in whatever condition it would be.

Stiles stared at Derek from under his brows. His mouth remained shut, but his eyes were wailing for the wolf to understand what was tugging his soul apart.

Because what if Derek found all of it gross? What if he was disgusted at Stiles rendering himself to a pitiful being willing to whore himself out to pretty much anyone? Stiles didn’t want to do it now, but who knows…

Derek stared back at him with his eyes running over Stiles’ face. He licked his lips. “We can do that, or… I can stay with you.”

Stiles’ poor heart jumped from the elation and relief.

“Please,” he whispered.

Derek huffed a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. It seemed like he was shaking. “Of course. I— Oh, sweetheart. Of course, I’m going to be there for you.” He grabbed Stiles’ hands and started laying dozens of kisses over them. “I’ll make you feel so good, kitten. Don’t be scared, I’ll take care of you, of everything.”

Swallowing a lodge in his throat, Stiles nodded and leaned into Derek’s open arms. He breathed out deliberately slowly and closed his eyes, soaking in the surprising coolness of the wolf’s body.

“Derek?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we… can we keep things light? I don’t know if I’ll remember anything and… I want to remember the first time you claim me.”

Derek kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back in soft motions. “Of course. Anything you want.”

*

“Derek…”

“Shh, baby, I’m here.”

“Derek, I need—”

“I know, I know.”

Stiles gasped into Derek’s lips and dug his fingers into his biceps when a hot firm hand wrapped around his hard weeping dick. They were lying sideways with one of Stiles’ thighs thrown over Derek’s side. The sheets under them were damp with sweat and slick that was leaking out of Stiles’ asshole non-stop.

Derek swallowed the whimper that came out of Stiles’ mouth, while gently moving his hand on the hard shaft, up and down with swipes of thumb against the head and along the slit. He distracted Stiles with kisses as best as he could, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Stiles gave tiny thrusts into Derek’s fist and breathed into Derek’s mouth. The moonlit curtains and the red glare of Derek’s eyes were the only things Stiles could see in the darkness. The air was soaked with the musky smell of sex and the sweetness of Stiles’ slick.

The only thought in the omega’s head was Derek, Derek, Derek.

He couldn’t even comprehend that there might have been a chance that he would spend his heat alone. What a torture it would be.

Stiles couldn’t do it without Derek. Couldn’t live without him.

This man was his husband, his alpha, his mate, and Stiles wanted to fuck him so bad. He felt so empty, and his rim clenched around nothing, making a pitiful whine escape his lips.

“Shh, kitten.” Oh, Derek’s voice was deep and rumbly. “Do you want my mouth again?

“Mm-yeah.”

“Come here, let me taste you.”

The loss of Derek’s body close to his was devastating. Stiles whined longing for touch, for a kiss, for a hug…

Derek turned him onto his back and pushed his thighs apart. A second later Stiles’ dick was enveloped in tight wet heat.

He squirmed, gasping and whining, and tried to lift his hips, but Derek held him in place. He bobbed his head almost torturously slow, sucking around the head and flicking the slit. The wolf seemed to enjoy how vocal Stiles was, how loudly he announced his pleasure; the wolf rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations traveled to Stiles’ cock, making him grasp at the sheets and pant with an open mouth.

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Derek told him, going further down. His beard rubbed against the skin on Stiles’ inner thighs, leaving red marks in its wake.

The blush was ingrained in Stiles’ face at this point. Derek wasn’t lavish of praise; some of the things he said were so intimate, that Stiles buried his face in the pillow, incredibly turned on.

He pushed his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugged at it when the alpha started sucking on his balls and perineum. His breathy moans echoed through their bedroom, mixing with slick laps of Derek’s tongue.

When Stiles’ whines got needier, Derek descended upon his cock once more. He was rougher this time; his fingers were leaving bruises on Stiles’ thighs and everything was so hot and wet…

Stiles was so overwhelmed and overstimulated already, that the orgasm came as a surprise. He choked on the gasp; tears ran down his temples, soaking into the pillow. He thrusted into Derek’s mouth, as the alpha swallowed the small thin amount of cum.

At last, Derek let him go. He climbed up on Stiles’ body, pressing gentle kisses upon it, and lay next to him, careful not to show how hard he was.

But Stiles knew. Through the fog of his feverish dreams, he felt Derek move next to him, grunting and growling as he jerked himself off. Derek’s control must’ve been on the edge all the time.

But the wolf kept his word. He used his thick fingers and his incredible mouth to bring Stiles pleasure, to leave him pleased, soft and satisfied until the next wave of heat.

Their kiss was sloppy and long, as both of them basked in another’s presence. Derek’s hands slid all over Stiles’ body, before settling on his ass, gripping and squeezing it.

Stiles fell asleep clinging to his wolf, mellowed out from his caress.

*

“Derek, please, please…”

Quick pumping of the fingers in and out of his wet hole wasn’t enough. It seemed like nothing ever would be enough, he was so fucking empty it hurt.

“I know.”

Derek didn’t know. How could he know? If he knew he would’ve fucked Stiles already.

“Please, I need you,” Stiles whimpered in a broken voice. He was rocking back and forth on Derek’s fingers, rubbing his dick on the wolf’s hairy thigh, and stared at him through his wet eyelashes. “Fuck me, please, I’ll do anything.”

“I will, baby, I promise. When all of this ends, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll remember it forever.”

“But I want it now!” Stiles reached down and wrapped his hand around Derek’s gorgeous veiny cock. His fingers weren’t able to close around it, and it nearly made Stiles lose his mind.

Derek hissed at Stiles’ touch and bucked his hips.

“I’m going to be so good for you,” Stiles mouthed at Derek’s cheek, peppering kisses over his scrunched face. “You can fuck me hard, whenever you want—”

With a snarl, Derek turned them over and pinned Stiles’ wrist with one of his hands over his head. The other slid back into Stiles’ loose asshole and started pumping harder.

Stiles mewled, squirming under the wolf’s weight, trying to fuck himself on his fingers. But Derek kept him pinned; he put his mouth against Stiles’ ear and growled.

“Believe me, I will. I will fuck you and claim you until everyone knows whose mate you are. You don’t get to touch me right now, angel. Don’t tease me and don’t test me.”

The combination of Derek’s voice, his relentless pumping and the sweetness of the promise forced Stiles into an orgasm. He bit his lip as he came, his legs shaking and his mind falling apart. He floated away into the land of dreams with Derek trailing kisses down his neck.

*

The fever broke in the early morning of the fourth day.

Stiles opened his bleary eyes, blinking the fog away. His whole body ached as if he ran for miles, his muscles sore and stiff. He felt like one move would crumble him apart into thousands of pieces.

The sight of Derek’s red unblinking eyes trained on him made him flinch and groan from pain.

Something rustled across the bed.

“Welcome back, beautiful.”

Stiles hummed. He stayed still as Derek leaned over him to press soft light kisses on his face, across his puffy eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Are you back with me?” the wolf asked, his voice too bright for such an early morning.

“Mhm.”

“How do you feel?”

Stiles was only aware of one thing. “Hurts.”

“I know,” Derek murmured. After another rustle, Stiles felt a finger rubbing his cheek. “You were so strong, you know. So gorgeous.”

The corners of Stiles’ lips tipped upwards at the praise. Derek huffed a laugh at him.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m going to take you to a bath.”

“Don’ think I can move,” Stiles mumbled, tearing his eyes open again.

Derek kissed his bare shoulder and smirked. “Didn’t I say I would take care of you?”

“Wh— Derek!”

The wolf lifted him up in his arms, making Stiles hiss from the muscle ache. The bastard cooed at him as he walked, naked as day, to the en-suite. They were greeted by a cloud of steam, scentless so as to not irritate the wolf’s senses.

Stiles tried not to blush at his own state of undress. After all, they spent nearly three days rolling around naked with Derek’s mouth and hands all over Stiles’ trembling body. They successfully passed that stage. What a wonder.

After lowering Stiles into the hot bath first, Derek stepped after him and made Stiles lean back. Stiles’ head ended up resting on the man’s shoulder, his spine pressed to Derek’s front. It felt as if Stiles’ body relaxed by itself, and he sagged onto Derek with a pleased sigh.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Derek’s low voice sounded close to his ear. “Relax. You can nap if you want.”

“You’re so nice to me,” said Stiles, rolling his head around to push his nose against Derek’s chest.

“Well, I love you.”

Derek ignored the quick jump of Stiles’ heart as well as his stunned silence, took the soap and started lathering up Stiles’ arms.

Stiles stayed quiet, lost in his mind. His heart took a long time to return to its usual beat, as it kept fluttering every time Derek touched him.

The wolf was slow and gentle in touching him. It felt wild to have the focus of such a dangerous predator centered on him and him alone. It made Stiles feel important like he truly meant something to Derek. Like he was precious to him.

Like Derek… loved him.

It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that Derek was hard. The wolf had yet to touch himself, but it was obvious he was actively keeping himself in control.

Even if Stiles wanted to start something, he was in no condition to do so.

But, oh, he wanted it so much. More than anything, he wanted to just give himself to Derek and have him in return.

He was ready.

They didn’t do anything, though. After the bath and one tired nap, Derek fed Stiles breakfast. Literally. His eyes kept glowing red every time Stiles took the food from his fingers. Something primal was going on here, something sacred and intimate. Something old like a ritual, that soothed a particular craving inside the wolf.

It wasn’t a hardship for Stiles to indulge the alpha.

*

Some might think the shared heat would’ve tamed the alpha, doused the flame burning inside and allowed him to let Stiles go without him for longer.

Except, everything ended up being exactly the opposite.

When Stiles started to take slow walks after his recovery, Derek was patient and gentle with him, always near to support his weight, or even swipe him off his feet. Stiles found it funny more than anything, especially after seeing the wolf’s self-satisfied smile.

However, Derek also began to detest the attention Stiles received. Wolves and other residents of the castle were probably just curious about their suddenly mixed scents; some of them craned their necks or stared particularly hard at Stiles’ neck to get a peek at the possible mating bite.

It drove Derek mad. He snapped at people constantly, tugging Stiles behind him and gripping his arm. His face was almost constantly shifted when they were out of the safe haven of their bedroom, with his red eyes blazing and sharp fangs snapping.

Who knew what his senses picked up, though? Stiles didn’t want to ask. He had enough imagination.

When it came to Stiles, though, the heat had a surprisingly calming effect on him. He was less concerned with others and was busy making heart eyes at Derek all the time. Most likely, it could be blamed on his omega nature; during the heat, Derek proved himself (once again) as an attentive, reliable and caring partner. He made sure Stiles was safe, comfortable, fed and satiated. Derek never left his side.

Thus, Stiles decided on some deep instinctual level that his search for the partner was fruitful. That was it. And Stiles was quite fine with that.

He clung to Derek with all his might, often forcing his attention away from others with a simple caress of the hand or the adjustment of clothes. Sometimes, Stiles just stared at him and that was enough for the wolf to turn and smile at him. Derek liked it, that was obvious. He preened and blustered, hiding his small pleased smile at the attention of his mate.

They remained inseparable, always hungry for touch and lavishing each other with it. Stiles had never felt this calm, and Derek had never felt this needed.

*

In the end, Stiles just got tired of waiting.

Derek was quite aware of Stiles staring at him for the past half an hour. Both of them lay in bed, with one candle lit on Derek’s side to aid him in reading some boring manuscript; Stiles was lying on his side with his cheek squished on the pillow and his big brown eyes trained on Derek. The wolf was failing to suppress a smile but was determined to wait his playful mate out.

And, damn it, Derek had the patience of a saint.

Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh and sat up. He plucked the paper out of Derek’s hands and dropped it on the floor without any care. It spoke of Derek’s willingness to indulge him for the wolf not to admonish him.

His stance changed quickly, however, when Stiles straddled his lap and raked his fingers through Derek’s dark chest hair. The wolf’s hands landed instinctively on Stiles’ thighs, rubbing them and sliding the nightshirt up.

“What’s the matter, kitten?”

You, not paying attention to me.

“Nothing,” Stiles murmured and leaned on Derek’s chest. He rubbed his hands along Derek’s naked shoulders, tracing the ridges of the prominent muscles, before turning to glance up at Derek’s amused face.

Ignoring his arched eyebrow, Stiles began dropping kisses first on Derek’s chest, then up his neck. He bit his jaw, anticipating the effect it would have on the alpha. He didn’t have to wait long to feel Derek’s cock chubbing up.

Smirking to himself, Stiles rocked his hips forward and was delighted to feel Derek’s hands tightening on his butt. The omega kissed Derek’s jaw and his cheeks before finally descending onto his mouth with kitten licks.

Being a tease was what he was famous for, after all.

As predicted, Derek soon took control of the kiss. Stiles could tell he was trying to remain sweet, but the deep-seated insatiate hunger was forcing its way through the controlled tenderness. The wolf’s chest vibrated with a silent growl, and his touch became more possessive. He captured Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at it, before sliding his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles would never get tired of kissing him.

Derek massaged his tongue, unashamed of the sounds the kiss produced. Stiles lost his breath very quickly and had to tear himself off Derek to gulp a greedy breath.

“Why so sweet all of a sudden, hmm?” Derek asked, kissing along his neck.

“Can’t I be sweet to my husband?” Stiles fluttered his eyes closed.

The alpha leaned away to give him a suspicious look. “I know you want something. But you also like having me at your fingertips.”

“Is that so?” Stiles nuzzled his nose against Derek’s, trying to play soft and innocent while the rapid fire built up inside his soul.

When Derek got distracted by the long line of his neck again, Stiles sneaked a hand down and wrapped it around Derek’s hard cock.

He should’ve anticipated the retaliating bite, really, but Derek always got him by surprise.

They stared at each other until Stiles lowered his gaze down, slow and deliberate. He knew Derek was still watching his every move. He always was.

He added another hand and started sliding them up and down the cock, slow and just a touch not enough, knowing it would rail the wolf up.

“Baby…” Derek rasped, watching him from under half-lidded eyes. “You’re… fuck…”

He rocked his hips up when Stiles swiped his thumb over the slit. The way his hips moved, so strong and open in his desire, made Stiles lose his breath. Transfixed, he shuffled back, lowered his head and gave a tentative lick to the tip.

In a flash, Derek caught his jaw in one hand and forced him to pull up.

“What are you doing?” he growled, his voice tight.

Stiles licked his lips, humming at the taste of precum. “Trying to get you to fuck me.”

Derek’s eyes widened just a bit.

Next thing Stiles knew he was being kissed within an inch of his life. Derek’s hands were all over his body, gripping and stroking, possessive and harsh. The wolf licked into his mouth with fervor and passion, as if Stiles was the only one who was able to satiate him.

In one frantic move, Derek pushed the nightshirt off him and gripped his waist, dropping kisses all over his face.

“Angel, if you use your mouth, I won’t last long,” he said.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Not tonight. I want to fuck you nice and long, like you deserve.”

“Then do it.” Stiles rocked back, feeling Derek’s engorged cock slide between his slick cheeks. He gasped when the head slid across his hole, but his breath was quickly lost in the kiss.

The wolf pressed Stiles to himself with one arm across his back and pushed another between his cheeks. He pushed two fingers in, purring into Stiles’ mouth, as the omega breathed in sharply.

“Already so wet,” he said, nibbling on Stiles’ lips. “You’re always wet when you’re close to me. Don’t think I don’t smell it.”

Stiles hid his rapidly heating face in Derek’s neck and dug his fingers into his broad shoulders. Derek hummed and pumped his fingers deeper into him, undulating them with careful slowness.

He continued murmuring in Stiles’ ear all the filthy things he noticed about the omega; how he could smell his cum after he had a bath, how his skin flushed so prettily from the compliments, how sweet his moans were when he orgasmed.

His fingers pumped and scissored, until, at last, he pulled them out.

Fuck, he felt so empty. He needed to have something in him, have Derek fill him…

“Derek,” Stiles whined.

“Come on, angel, open for me.”

Stiles bit his lip as the tip of Derek’s cock breached him. It felt so big already, how the hell was he supposed to—

“Aaah…” Stiles was pretty sure he pierced Derek’s skin with his nails when the wolf gave an experimental thrust.

“Breathe for me, baby,” Derek sounded breathless himself. “Relax, yeah, like that…”

Stiles slowly rocked back, gasping at the hard length stretching his insides. Derek was so hot, so hard and pulsing. It felt like forever, but after a few thrusts, Stiles was seated fully on Derek’s cock.

He groaned at the painful stretch. Derek was big, almost too big for him, but the feeling of finally being full stood above everything. He saw Derek’s clenched eyes, felt him shake from how hard he tried not to flip Stiles over and fuck him into the sheets.

Fuck that.

Stiles put his hands on Derek’s chest to stabilize himself and circled his hips. The stretch burned but at the same time felt so, so good. He started rocking back and forth with his eyes closed from pleasure and mouth open from the lack of air.

He shivered as Derek rubbed his thighs and ass. His heart was thudding in his chest and along his veins, as his whole world dissolved into pleasure.

“You feel incredible, baby…”

Stiles smiled at the praise and opened his eyes to look down at the alpha. He nearly moaned at the burn of lust in his red gaze. There it was, the feral possessiveness that won above Derek’s mind so often. Nothing could describe the feeling of this lust and love centered on him and only him.

It made Stiles feel so… beautiful. For once in his life it gave him power, instead of taking everything away.

Encouraged by the alpha, Stiles lifted himself up and dropped down, mewling at the sensation. His movements were probably frantic and spoke of his inexperience, but Stiles just lost himself in the feeling of cock pumping inside him, hitting that sweet spot almost every time.

Derek thrust his hips up, burying himself deeper inside. Stiles didn’t realize when the wolf’s nails became claws or when his face shifted, he was so high on pleasure, moaning and gasping Derek’s name.

Suddenly, Derek wove both hands around his waist and sat up, pressing them chest to chest. Stiles let out a wail full of pleasure-pain, and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as the wolf started fucking him in earnest.

He felt like a doll used for pleasure, except he knew deep in his heart how loved he was.

With Derek breathing heavily into his neck, gulping his scent like a starving man, Stiles couldn’t feel anything but precious.

Derek didn’t last long; the wait was simply too long. He went crazy as his knot enlarged in size, and slammed Stiles on his cock, trying to get it inside.

Stiles all but screamed as the thick bulbous knot entered him, stretching him to the brim. He clung to Derek’s sweaty frame, shaking as the orgasm took over both of them. His thighs were wet with slick, his and Derek’s stomachs covered in Stiles’ thin cum.

He mewled as Derek held him tight; his hot thick cum pulsed inside him without any way out thanks to the knot. If Stiles felt full before, it didn’t compare to the feeling of it now.

The room was filled with harsh breathing, the musky smell of sex and sweat; Stiles and Derek held each other as if they were the last beings left alive in this world, unwilling to let go.

*

Derek told him the next day. About the threat of hunters hanging over his kind; about the dangers of Stiles associating himself with the Hale name.

He told of his family, large and joyous, of pups running everywhere, of the wolves howling together and being blessed under the moon.

He told of the hot blisters their ashes left on his palms and on his heart as he failed to gather enough for the funerals. He told of how the coldness from their headstones made his muscles ache when he lay near them for weeks.

Staring at the wrinkle on his husband’s forehead and a couple of hidden grey hairs on his temples, Stiles held him and cried for him. Derek told him everything, and then fell silent for a long time, staring at nothing and holding Stiles back.

Despite the mournful quietness, Stiles heard the rest. The story of a lone wolf, getting up and moving on. Of the courage and power that it took for him to seek a better future, of him to open his heart enough to feel again.

To love. To hope. To let Stiles in.

It was then he realized how strong Derek really was.

There was no one like him.

Unable to keep it inside, Stiles confessed his love, clinging to his husband with all his might.

They got mated the same evening.

*

Later that year, deep into the night, Derek heard a tiny heartbeat. Nothing was the same after that.

*

Light chilly wind tickled the pages of the book that the omega held on his knees, and whined pitifully after failed attempts to capture his attention. Bundled up in black leather, scratchy wool and furs, Stiles watched a couple of birds stealing bits of frozen fat from the feeder, yet his mind was far away. A tender smile kept tugging the corner of his mouth up.

They were going to have a baby.

Stiles closed his eyes and huffed at the silly grin that took over his lips. He’d been like that for days now, feeling like he could float above the ground and dance with the snowflakes from how happy and light he felt.

He always thought that pregnancy would be a dark time for him. Looming death aside, he worried that he wouldn’t want a child from someone he despised, would break at the thought of another being living inside him. Yet, with Derek…

Stiles’ heart fluttered, as he traced the black droplets of words on the page.

Derek.

His precious face after he learned about the babe was still fresh in Stiles’ mind. His eyes were wide in fear, his closed mouth tight in awe and disbelief. When Derek told him what beautiful sound had just reached his ears, Stiles grinned and laughed, and swept his alpha in a victorious embrace. He didn’t say a word about the glistening of Derek’s eyes, how tight the alpha held him, or how he kept choking on words of love and gratuitousness.

Their little heaven, that’s what it was.

Oh, they would be so joyous, the three of them! They would—

Stiles frowned. He blinked the world back into his mind and inclined his head.

Someone was breathing heavily.

The omega turned his head this way and that yet saw no one. He was hiding from curious people in the gardens, just a touch inside of the crusted walls of the pine labyrinth. Stiles only dared to go far when Derek was beside him.

Someone stifled a moan.

With his heart slamming on his ribs, Stiles stood up, and looked closely into the needly teal blue bushes, but—

Stiles went still.

A man, broad and red in the face, stood hidden behind the bald spot in the wall. He was noble, from the looks of his clothes. His intense, half-lidded gaze was set on Stiles, as he took quick inhales. One of his hands was down near his groin, and he was—

Stiles shut his half-opened mouth, fighting the stomach bile that rose in his throat, swiveled around and ran.

It felt like, all of a sudden, he was covered in slimy dirt, gobbled up by the deepest moor with no way out.

The thin cover of snow crunched under his feet, and his breathing trailed after him like a cloud. The pikes of the castle towers sliced the grey sky above him. He needed to get inside. Away from… from…

His appeal would haunt him forever, Stiles realized, and even marriage wasn’t able to guarantee him peace. They smiled at him, while their gazes trailed across his body; they said nice things, yet who knew what was on their minds?

No wonder no one dared to speak to him in Derek’s presence. The wolf would’ve sniffed the lies out.

He would never go outside alone again. Fuck this. He would whine and tease, but he would drag Derek out of his boring meetings to have a stroll without men watching him and—

Stiles let out a sharp shout as someone caught his wrist.

“Don’t tell him,” a deep but pleading voice uttered.

Stiles inhaled sharply at the sight of the same man, then quickly broke out of his hold and stepped back.

“Don’t you touch me,” his voice trembled from anger and disgust.

The man’s face was red from the cold. His small brown eyes hooked onto Stiles’ face, with an animal fear trashing in them.

“He’ll kill me,” he exclaimed, following after Stiles. “Please, I— I haven’t even done anything—”

“You did enough,” Stiles bared his teeth, walking backward.

The man’s face went white. He lifted his hands, ready to fold them in prayer. “You cannot blame me for your beauty. You’re a curse to us all. You don’t even know how many of us you—” he stuttered, noticing something behind Stiles, then let out a scream and took off running.

Stiles didn’t even have time to turn, as a dozen warrior wolves swept past him in pursuit. Cold air burned his throat, as he stared at the inevitable. They would catch him. That man wasn’t—

He let out a scream, as someone grabbed his shoulders, and dropped his book. His heart stuttered as he saw who it was.

“What did he do?” Derek snarled, looking over Stiles’ face.

The wolf caught him, as Stiles sagged against him. Pushing his face into Derek’s chest, Stiles gulped greedily, grounding himself in the safety of his scent. His hands clutched at the lapels of the wolf’s big coat.

Derek pulled him close with his arms sliding across his back. “Tell me.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sour burning in his throat. “Nothing, he… He watched me and…”

“And?”

“Pleasured himself.”

Derek’s silence covered Stiles’ skin in goosebumps.

He didn’t want to look, but as the screaming got louder, as the excited yips and growls grew closer, Stiles turned his head and nearly flinched.

The wolves dropped the blood-covered pale man at their feet and stepped back. He didn’t try to run again, instead shaking uncontrollably and pleading for something.

Derek took Stiles’ chin and turned his head to look into his eyes.

His irises were burning fire.

“I want you to watch.”

It was an order, the one that Stiles found himself immediately nodding over. Derek wanted to show him something. So he would.

A strange calmness settled over him, as Derek’s hands left him. Stiles watched in detachment as Derek walked over slowly to the cowering man and inclined his head.

“Did you like what you saw?” he asked in what seemed like a normal voice. Yet, his eyes still burned.

The man sniffled. “N-no.”

Derek smirked. “Liar.”

He began circling the man with measured steps, his hands locked behind his back.

“You think I don’t know the feeling?” he asked. “I know how my mate looks. How he smells. Can you smell him?”

“No, no, please…” the man slobbered over himself, shaking his head.

“Right, you can’t. You’re human.” Suddenly, he turned his head towards the wolves. “But you can.”

Stiles had never seen the warrior wolves this still. Some whined, some stood frozen with their ears flattened and backs hunched, pressed down by the force of submission.

The winds picked up.

“I know how it feels to look at him,” Derek continued, pinning a dozen wolves with one stare. “I am no different to you in that desire. He’s divine, isn’t he?” Derek met Stiles’ wide gaze and smiled coldly, before turning back. “All of you want him in your bed — or, anywhere, really. I hear what you whisper amongst yourselves, I see where your gaze falls.”

The nobleman made a pathetic sight. He seemed to stop listening to his leader, and just pleaded, shaking his head and rocking back and forth. The wolves stood frozen.

Derek put his foot under the man’s chin and lifted it from the ground, before catching his face in his hands. Long claws pierced through his cheeks, forcing a wail out of the damned soul.

Stiles shivered but continued watching.

“My mate is irresistible, yet my wolves learned to resist,” Derek murmured, studying the man’s snot-covered face. “I don’t think you would.”

“No! Have mercy! I will resist, I would never look at him anymore—”

Derek smiled. “Of that I am sure.”

He cupped the man’s cheeks, put the tips of his claws against the man’s eyes and pushed.

This, Stiles couldn’t bear. He closed his eyes and turned away, but the blood-curdling scream still reached his ears.

And it didn’t stop.

Stiles could barely hear Derek’s “Make his death slow, else you’ll suffer the same fate.” to his wolves over the wailing. This time, when the alpha took him by the shoulders, he didn’t flinch.

“Let’s go have a bath,” Derek muttered to him, his voice gentle as always. “You must be cold…”

Stiles laid his hand over Derek’s and held it, seeking reassurance in the slick hot bloodied skin.

“Join me?” he asked quietly, barely heard over the sound of tearing flesh and sharp cries.

“If I ever refuse, consider me dead.”

*

Stiles couldn’t breathe. Only torn-off moans left his lips, so quiet and weak they could be mistaken for gasps.

He clutched at Derek’s bulging arms, grasped at his forearms, just to hold onto something, as the wolf pounded him into the sheets. Stiles’ slick-covered hole squelched under the stretch of the veiny alpha cock. The sounds made him blush, still.

Oh, fuck…

“Der— Ahh!”

The alpha almost bent him in half as he lowered his body. Their sweaty skin slid against each other. It felt so fucking good. To feel him deep, inside, pulsing, so heavy and demanding.

He slid his arms around Derek’s shoulders and dig his nails into them, as the wolf latched onto his throat, sucking his mark. As if the belly bump wasn’t enough.

Derek ground his hips in circular motions, making Stiles whimper from the sensation. The wolf was wild with sex these days, but even then remained careful. He kissed Stiles like he was precious, and fucked him as if he was the encapsulation of pleasure.

Derek had long since lost his ability to talk and kissed him instead. He caught Stiles’ shouts, as he snapped his hips, as he slowly worked the thick knot inside his omega. They groaned at once, as the wolf spilled inside him, thick and hot, claiming and copious.

“Derek…” Stiles let out a whimper through his tight throat, sore from the previous act of pleasure he gave to his alpha. He clenched on the knot, milking more and more cum into himself as if he hadn’t already got enough.

Derek rocked into him in slow, tender increments in vast contrast to his lustful pounding earlier. He basked in the omega’s whimpers, smiling against his lips and kissing him into silence.

They would stay like this until the knot deflates enough for Derek to pull out. The wolf would spread his legs and lick the cum out of him, making him tremble and fall apart again, and again, and again.

From Derek, there was no escape.

*

Nobles, guards, the court — everybody stopped meeting Stiles’ gaze.

The change was immediate, after the performative execution of one of their own.

Stiles would’ve lied if he said it didn’t calm him. After so many years of near-constant gawking, it was refreshing to acquire that control. He could only hope that Derek understood how crucial this gift was.

*

Stiles hoped he would never have to put Derek's present to use. Not until the blade of the diamond-encrusted dagger slid into the flesh as if it were a soft butter.

A couple of minutes. That’s how long he was gone from the meeting courtroom, where he and Derek were welcoming the foreign pack. It wasn’t upon his will, but rather their child’s who turned Stiles into a walking water jug pretty much since they heard the heartbeat.

He had only just turned the corner when one of the foreign guards jumped on him with a crazed sheen in his blue eyes.

The hot blood sprayed on Stiles’ hands and his stomach, but the omega couldn’t look away from the guard’s wide eyes. His face went red, then blue, as he gasped in air, and Stiles felt the last of the man’s breath fan across his face.

It all happened very quickly, and the weirdest thing was how quiet it was.

The wolfsbane-coated knife slithered out of the man’s sternum, as he fell from the weight of his own body tugging him down.

The dagger shook in Stiles’ slick hands. While the guard was choking on his own blood, Stiles licked his lips, as something dripped across them, and immediately flinched upon the metallic taste.

It served like a slap in the face.

Suddenly unable to breathe, with his heart beating in his temples, Stiles staggered along the hall, still clutching at the bloody dagger.

Derek told him to always have it on him, wherever he went, so Stiles obeyed. He couldn’t allow himself to drop it. Derek told him to have it. Derek ordered him. Derek—

“Derek.”

Stiles’ whisper was lost among the sharp gasps and outcries of the crowd, as he walked back into the courtroom. He couldn’t distinguish who was in front of him — friend or foe, and thus held his dagger in front of his own barely distended belly.

He flinched again, as someone grabbed him. His hands shook and his voice was lost, but the sight of the enraged scarily distorted face along with familiar scarlet eyes forced the air into his lungs.

“Are you alright?” Derek barked into his face, patting hands all over Stiles’ body in a desperate manner. “What happened? Who was it? Talk to me, Stiles!”

“I—” Stiles shook his head and gulped. “He came at me and— Derek, I didn’t mean to—”

The dagger was forced out of his hands, and Stiles couldn’t even resist it. Derek took it from him quickly but carefully, and put it back into the scabbard hanging from Stiles’ waist. A moment later he tugged Stiles into a rough and shaky embrace.

“You’re alright, baby—” he grunted, stroking Stiles’ back.

“He killed someone…”

“You did everything right—”

“This could be a ground for a war…”

“No one will touch you—”

“I told you omegas always tease. He wouldn’t be satisfied with having just one wolf…”

“A shame upon the pack name...”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into Derek’s shoulder, away from the dozens of faces filled with disgust and disapproval.

*

“I am sorry.”

Derek glanced at him. His hair was stuck to his forehead from the saturated heated air of the en-suite. “There is no need to be.”

He squeezed out the pink water from the cleaning rag and swiped it gently across Stiles’ face. The omega stared at the wolf with his eyes bigger than plates. His hands couldn’t stop shaking, not even hours after the ordeal.

Derek didn’t trust anyone with him, now even more so. He waited until the staff prepared the hot bath, then took it upon himself to undress Stiles and clean him from all the blood. He did it carefully, meticulously, his touch gentle and reverent. He couldn’t stop tracing his hands over Stiles’ body, though, as if convincing himself that his mate was truly well.

It brought tears to Stiles’ burning eyes.

“I killed someone,” he whispered just above his breath, afraid of the horrific words coming out of his mouth.

Derek scowled, dropped the rag back into the wash basin and kneeled down in front of him, putting his hands on Stiles’ waist.

“Do you remember what I told you the night we mated? Do you remember your promise?”

Stiles blinked the wetness from his eyes and nodded. “I promised I’d stay alive.”

“That’s right.” Derek caressed his sides, not looking away from him. “You know that as my mate you can easily ignore my orders. You’re the only one from the pack who is allowed that lenience. But this one is non-negotiable.”

“I know.”

“You swore to me you’d keep yourself alive no matter what. Do everything you can to live and to find a way to come back to me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“You did,” Stiles murmured. He had never heard Derek roar as loud as he did when dealing with the furious foreign pack. He won, of course.

“Then you did everything right,” Derek leaned forward and put a kiss on his chest, before meeting Stiles’ eyes again. “You followed my order. If there’s someone to blame for that man’s righteous fate, then it’s me. His blood is on my hands.”

Stiles knew Derek was willing to do pretty much anything for him, but this was something new. He took the blame for another man’s death upon himself, freeing Stiles from the consequences it brought and from the weight it put on his soul.

It seemed, that all Derek did was free him. One way or another.

“You got out of that bastard’s hands alive,” Derek rumbled, desperate to get his point across. His face was determined, but his eyes were gentle. “You protected yourself, and our pup. You did as a proper mate should.”

“And this… doesn’t scare you?” Stiles’ voice trembled with a tiny sparkling of hope.

“All it does is make me even more happier in my choice,” Derek let a small proud smile grace his lips.

Stiles couldn’t help but steal it away.

*

“What do you think the alpha did to him? To the guard?”

“What can he do? The man’s dead.”

“No, I meant to the omega.”

“Well, I hope he smacked some sense into him. As a husband should! What was that omega thinking, flaunting himself around like that? You’d think he’d learn from the last time.”

“Hear, hear.”

“I mean, with a face like his, not like he has to do much. He’s certainly beautiful for a whore.”

“No wonder he costs so much.”

“I bet the alpha will give him a proper fucking. The whore has to learn his place.”

“Damn you, now I’m going to be thinking about it all day! He sings prettily that’s for sure.”

“During the mating? Oh, yes, moans like a proper bitch.”

“You think, when the alpha gets bored he’d give us the omega? As guards, I think we earned it.”

“He’d be loose when the wolf’s done with him.”

“His mouth must be nice. I’d fuck him anyway.”

“Me, too.”

*

Stiles fidgeted. “I don’t… I don’t want to go today.”

Derek’s head swiveled towards him. In a blink of an eye, he jumped from his place in front of the mirror to Stiles, who was standing in front of the window. His eyes filled with worry in an instant.

“Is there something wrong?” Derek put his hands around the belly, making Stiles roll his eyes. “Should I call Deaton? What is—”

“I’m fine, the baby’s fine,” Stiles said calmly, grabbing his husband’s hands and squeezing them. “I’m not ready to go out yet.”

But Derek’s frown only deepened. Stiles hated that it started happening more and more. “But I’m going to be there with you. All the time. Those will be just people from the town, no strangers, I swear.”

“And I trust you,” Stiles hurried to reassure him because Derek was getting antsy. The omega put his arms around Derek’s waist and pressed himself close, with his chin on Derek’s chest and his gaze upon the handsome face. “I just don’t want to see… any of them. Or hear what they have to say.”

“I’ll order them into silence.”

“Kind of defeats the purpose of the meeting.”

“I’ll cut their tongues out if you wish so,” Derek uttered with heat. He seemed ready to go and do it with his own hands right this second.

Stiles banged his forehead against Derek’s sturdy chest. “You say the nicest things,” he sighed, lifting his eyes on the wolf. “But no. I am going to rest. You brought me food and drinks. I have my books and letters to write. I know the secret passages and I have my dagger. I will be fine.”

After several long minutes of ridiculous arguing, Stiles forced Derek to go without him. The frown was etched on his husband’s face at this point, but Derek was always helpless in front of Stiles’ big fluttering eyes. With grumbling, he admitted defeat and went away, but not before Stiles forced him to lock the bedroom door behind himself.

Which led to more arguing. Which led to Stiles winning again.

Obviously.

Listening to Derek’s footsteps fading into the distance, Stiles walked to the door, took the handle and shook it.

The door stayed close.

Stiles breathed out in relief, cupped his belly and smiled.

*

Soon, the omega stopped coming to the meetings at all.

The maids assured everyone that he stayed in his room, though his sightings became rarer with time, even for them. It was clear that two people still resided in the alpha’s rooms, but some weren’t so sure and insisted that the alpha did something to his chosen one.

“Especially after… you know.”

The alpha’s sour mood didn’t help. It was almost like in the old days when he would storm around the castle, snarling at everyone, or brood on his throne with his chin on his fist and his gaze somewhere far away.

Some thought having someone to warm his bed and his cock every night would put a smile on the scary face. While it did work in the beginning, no one expected the bliss to last this short.

Alpha Hale usually didn’t mind his advisory court. He barked at them when they talked too loud, sure, but lately, the frustration started to turn into hatred. The alpha was often seen with a suspicious grim glance trained on one wolf or another. He became brutal with his training, snarling and snapping at guards and knights. No one knew why, but the gossip was brewing.

For example, it wasn’t hard to believe that the alpha had somehow caught Lord Parrish fucking his omega. After all, Parrish had been rather vocal in his desire for the boy (though, he wasn’t the only one), at least in the company of the local tavern visitors, and, well, with the omega’s famous promiscuity…

One maid swore to the moon that the omega had a child on the way, but only a few believed her. If the omega was with a child, then it for sure wasn’t the alpha’s — otherwise, there would’ve been huge celebrations, for an alpha’s heir no less.

Some took it further and assumed that maybe the alpha beat the pup out of the omega for infidelity, and was now hiding him until he healed.

Whatever was going on, the omega was to blame. That’s the only thing everyone agreed on.

*

“I don’t see what the problem is.”

Derek, who’s been walking holes into the carpet of their bedroom all evening, exploded. “You don’t— You’re here all the time. When was the last time you went into the library? You love it there. You wanted to rearrange it, what happened to that?”

Stiles popped another grape into his mouth and wiggled around the pillows framing his extended belly. “The baby happened.”

Derek raked a hand through his hair, making Stiles stare at him for some time. It wasn’t his fault the sight of his husband awakened such ardor in him. Stiles was leaking all the time now because of that, but he never left their room so not like it mattered anyway. He wanted to have his husband’s dick in him. All. The. Time.

And he had a full right to want it! Besides, Derek was worse than him — Stiles had actually caught him drooling at least one time.

Stiles glanced at Derek, thinking of fun ways they could get rid of all this unnecessary stress. Alas, the alpha was busy digging himself into the pits of self-inflicted despair.

“Are you telling me you don’t feel safe?” Derek’s voice deepened, and Stiles could hear the thoughts of self-rage roaming around in his head. Oh, no… “My sun, I would protect you with my life—”

“This is actually the safest place here,” Stiles noticed casually, stroking his stomach.

“That doesn’t mean you’re trapped in here, for fuck’s sake…”

“Who says I’m trapped?” Stiles arched an eyebrow and pinned Derek with a stare. “It’s a nice room—”

Derek scoffed and shook his head, but Stiles went on further.

“— and I know you love it.”

Derek froze with his eyes widening a bit under the scowl, as if a little boy caught in mischief he so desperately tried to hide.

Stiles smirked at him. He longed to jump off the bed and saunter to his husband seductively, but, alas, he became too heavy for that kind of flirting. Besides, he didn’t need to do that to seduce Derek. The wolf turned feral for him with a simple snap of Stiles’ fingers. It was as much funny as it was flattering.

“You wouldn’t, normally,” Stiles continued in a calm voice, not taking his eyes off the alpha. “But when I’m pregnant with your pup—” he smiled at the red glint in the wolf’s eyes. “You love it that you have me trapped here so I can’t run away. You always know where I am and, while it pains you greatly, you can leave me here, behind locked doors knowing I will be safe. You bring me food and entertainment, and my pleased reaction satisfies your instinct to provide. You love it.”

“And I hate myself for it,” Derek muttered.

Stiles watched his tired face with that constant frown and the darkness under his eyes. It was too early for that; those were for the sleepless nights with the baby.

“Why? Not like I mind it,” Stiles said carefully.

Derek closed his eyes. “I took you, naïve and so fucking soft, out of that fucker’s hands. You were so…” he grit his teeth, “…desperate to leave the house you were trapped in for so long. It was a heaven’s blessing that you chose me to be the one to steal you away. Now I’m doing the same thing as Harris.”

“You’re not the one who hid the existence of heats from me in order to catch me off-guard later.”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. He made Derek even more angry with the reminder.

The wolf snarled at his own inaction. Derek longed to go after Harris and tear his throat out but the need to protect his mate and pup prevailed over any revenge. It will have to wait for later.

“I hate doing this to you,” he growled, his gaze far away. “Knowing you were locked inside for your entire life… You trusted me to free you and here I am, ecstatic over being the one to have the key.”

“You’re right,” said Stiles, watching Derek shut his eyes. “I was locked inside for a long time. So why can’t you comprehend that I might find comfort in that?”

Based on the look Derek gave him, he never thought of it like that.

Stiles sighed and opened his arms. “Come here.”

He didn’t even manage to finish the sentence before Derek dove into the bed. The wolf tucked his massive body next to Stiles’, put his head on Stiles’ chest and his arm around the belly. Feeling the child immediately kick his palm, Derek relaxed, his body sagging into the sheets.

Stiles buried his fingers into Derek’s hair and started talking. “You must understand that this is something that I’m used to. Walking around the same room and having to be creative to occupy myself is familiar. I know what to do and where things are. But most importantly, I feel safe knowing that the only person who can get inside is you.”

“But you seemed so happy exploring my territory with me…”

“Because it was new and exciting and I wanted to spend time with you. But now… I feel calm here. Safe. I don’t trust anyone except you. I’m going to stay here until the pup arrives. Then we will show them our territory together.”

Derek stayed silent for a long time, stroking the belly as if in a trance. At last, he kissed the bump and settled higher, with his nose buried in Stiles’ neck.

Stiles closed his eyes, basking in the heat of his mate’s embrace.

“I cannot believe you are real,” Derek whispered.

“How so?”

“I’m… possessive. Controlling. It’s too much, even for wolves. I must beg for your forgiveness on my knees for an eternity, yet here you are, resigning your freedom to me.”

“I love you,” Stiles said because for him it was that simple.

Stiles resigned his freedom to Derek the moment he said “yes” in that ballroom in Harris’ mansion. He risked everything and gained more.

If Derek thought he was the one in control of Stiles, well… Whatever helped him sleep at night. Stiles knew that one word from him could decide the fate of many. One of the most powerful alpha werewolves was wrapped around his little finger. Talk about control.

“I love you, too,” Derek muttered.

As it always was, Stiles heard what he wasn’t saying.

You are the only family I have. I love you. I’m afraid to lose both of you. I feel safe knowing where you are at all times and that no one has access to you. I never want to feel helpless again so I will take as much control over your life as you allow.

And Stiles allowed too much, he knew that. But he didn’t mind.

Because that happened to be what he wanted, too.

*

“Poor boy. How long did he last? A year?”

“Not even that, I think.”

“Do you really think the wolf killed him?”

“He had to. Remember how they were in the beginning? Stuck to each other, like a couple of lovely doves. That boy was all over the wolf. Now, don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen the lad in months.”

“Me, too. And the wolf is so sullen all the time.”

“Must be grieving.”

“Not so much at night, if Maggie from the scullery is telling the truth.”

“You don’t say?”

“The sheets can’t lie. Someone warms the wolf’s bed. You know.”

“He can easily call for one of us.”

“He barely looks at anyone. And I asked. Everyone denies it. The guards say no one dares to go up at night. I tell you, Ethel, there is someone in that room.”

“Mayhap, the omega is alive?”

“In what state, then? The wolf liked to show him around. How hard did he disfigure the boy for him to lose that kind of beauty?”

“You’re right. Besides, there aren’t any new stones in the Hale cemetery. Not yet, at least.”

“Perhaps, we might see one soon, then.”

*

Stiles thought that with time, Derek would calm down, settle and enjoy the last months of ease before the babe arrived.

Instead, the wolf became almost insufferable. “Almost”, because Stiles loved him and, unfortunately, understood his worry. Still, it hurt his heart to wake up in the middle of the night from the pup’s cheerful kicking and see Derek awake. He usually stared at Stiles or his big belly, with his palm resting on the side of it. Whether he was trying to calm the pup down or making sure that both his mate and child were alive, Stiles didn’t stop him either way.

Who knows what kind of thoughts didn’t let him sleep at night?

The wolf tried to hide it, bless his heart. If Stiles didn’t get to know him as well as he did, he would have thought the worst. Derek’s forehead had permanent wrinkles from how hard he scowled most of the time, and Stiles was convinced there was an indentation on the floor from all his pacing.

Derek glared at the outside world through the window, his gaze narrowed and suspicious. Sometimes, he spent too much time observing his surroundings, snapped his head at the barest of moves, and lifted his lip in a snarl.

The alpha began to give Stiles this stare when he thought the omega wasn’t looking. Apprehensive, dark, and full of fear.

“Are you not happy?” Stiles asked quietly one evening, when they lay in bed, as his fingers traced tenderness upon Derek’s cheeks.

Derek watched him with shadows lurking in his eyes, yet his smile was small and deceitfully easeful. “I am.”

“Each time you come back to me, you’re angry.”

Derek arched his eyebrow, lifted himself on the elbow and leaned over Stiles, his lips stretched in a confused smile. “You are unable to anger me.”

“I know. I meant, with your pack.” Stiles’ heart grew heavy as Derek’s face shut down. “I am the cause, aren’t I?”

Because what else could it be?

“They aren’t worth your worry,” said the wolf.

“But you are.” They grew silent for a while, watching each other with ache tugging on their souls. “What did I do to cause the rift between the alpha and his pack?”

Derek didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, his gaze never leaving Stiles’. His voice was somber, when he did. “You stripped them bare, then forced me to open my eyes. I see and hear everything now.”

None of it was able to replace his attention, though. Stiles was drowning in his love, and the suffocating tenderness of it blinded him almost enough not to notice the darkening clouds hanging above them.

Stiles’ every wish, every smidge of desire was fulfilled. Derek simply couldn’t handle his discomfort, and there was a lot of it, especially in the last months. The wolf took his pain, and Stiles was grateful for that, sometimes weeping from the relief. Alas, he had to put a stop to it for fear of missing the sign if something went wrong.

It drove Derek mad to be this helpless.

And they couldn’t even take it out on sex. The hunger didn’t abate — it doubled in depth. Derek confessed one time that Stiles constantly smelled like arousal and, before the omega could crawl away with his cheeks set aflame, Derek pinned him to the bed and forced him to listen.

Stiles’ scent was pretty amazing before, but now when he was emanating the sweet notes of fertility, when he was dripping slick at the minute sight of Derek stretching or inclining his head, when all Stiles could think of was “please, fuck me”… The wolf reacted accordingly.

He touched Stiles, caressed his skin, pressed their bodies together so tight, that there was no air between them. He laid kisses upon Stiles’ body like they were prayers one would sing to the deities above, revered and beatific.

They made love. Not the hard way both of them longed to, but careful, slow and languid, though no less heated and lustful. Stiles could dissolve from the very touch of Derek’s fingers and Derek was ready to fall to his knees at the simple glance of his mate.

Stiles couldn’t wait to have a child with him.

The thought of it astounded Stiles to this day. All his life he thought that if he were to have a child, it would be forced upon him, and he would bear the painful weight of it in devastating loneliness. It would be from someone he despised and wished dead, and it made him so fucking afraid. Because what if that hatred spread to the innocent babe in his womb?

They could take the child away the minute it was out and let Stiles see it once a week, or they could lock him inside with the baby thrust into his weak hands and throw away the key. Both concepts filled him with dread.

Stiles never considered having Derek in his life.

He was a miracle, a blessing. Sometimes, when Stiles lay delirious with orgasm, he genuinely believed that Derek was some kind of god.

Derek loved the kid, even though it wasn’t out yet. He talked to the bump, no matter how hard it made Stiles giggle, and told him old folk tales and legends. He spoke of plans that stretched years from now, of what the three of them would do and where they would travel.

Derek took the dread away and replaced it with joy. He didn’t have to worry about anything with Derek. The wolf would never leave him, never kick him out with nothing on his back, would never dismiss him or their child. Derek would provide and protect, even if it cost him his life.

If only Stiles could take Derek’s fears away as easily.

His husband simply lost too much. And the thought of it happening again made him shake and tighten his hold on Stiles during the howling nights.

*

They should have known. It was too quiet for too long. Stiles should have trusted the wolf’s instincts.

*

“Go.”

“No.” Derek’s eyes were wide, as he shook his head. “No, this has to be a trick. A trap. I’m not fucking leaving you here alone.”

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, then walked up slowly to his shaking husband and cupped his unusually pale face.

“I am going to be alright,” he said in the softest voice, trying to soothe the wolf. “It’s just a small skirmish at the border. It’s an hour away. You know you can’t ignore it.”

“What I can’t do is leave you here vulnerable and alone,” Derek growled, flashing his eyes.

“You rarely leave the bedroom. People don’t see you, so of course there are rumors and riots. You have to go to remind them of who is the alpha here. Otherwise, it will grow into something that we cannot afford to have right now.”

The look on Derek’s face was pure torture, and it hurt Stiles to force him to go. He knew how hard it was for wolves to leave their mates, no less when the latter were heavily pregnant. It went against every instinct Derek had, even though he knew Stiles was right.

Suddenly, Derek grabbed him and pierced him with a crazed glance.

“Swear to me you will stay alive,” he rumbled harshly.

Stiles gave him a tender look. “I swear.”

“Keep the dagger with you at all times. Don’t come out. Call the guards if something happens. Howl for me.”

“Nothing will happen,” Stiles leaned forward to press his big bump against Derek, knowing the pup would kick some calm into the wolf. “We’re just going to rest—”

“No, you have to stay aware—”

“I’ll keep vigil, then.”

Derek stared at him. “If I come back and you’re not here—”

Stiles shut him up with a kiss. He started with a simple nibbling of his tight lips before letting his tongue slide in between them, asking for access. Derek was weak to his kitten licks (as always), and relaxed somewhat, sliding his arms around Stiles and gripping him tight.

The kiss turned deep and dirty pretty quickly. They rarely managed to keep it tender with the kisses, always hungry for each other. Derek licked inside and massaged his tongue, making Stiles melt and lose his breath.

Derek kissed him hard, with the unfamiliar edge of desperation etched into it. Stiles didn’t like the tone but allowed the alpha to do whatever he wanted, for his husband to take what he needed from him.

The kiss ended abruptly, as the pup landed a particularly hard kick, pressed against Derek’s stomach. Both of them separated with huffs of laughter; Derek cupped Stiles’ belly with a soft look, taking the pain away in a swift touch.

“Yes, yes, how could I forget about you,” he muttered and stroked his thumbs against the place where the pup kicked. “Behave, both of you.”

“I will, if you promise to be nice to me later,” Stiles murmured, fluttering his eyelashes at him, but quickly dissolved into laughter at Derek’s unamused stare. “Just a little incentive for you to come back.”

“As if I need one,” Derek scoffed, and Stiles pushed down a relieved smile. The wolf wasn’t calm, not even close, but Stiles still managed to relax him at least a little.

Wolves howled from outside, signaling the start of the journey. Derek tensed. Locking his jaw, he kissed Stiles once more, hard and forceful, before storming away to the door.

It seemed like he was going to stand there forever with the way he kept staring at the omega.

Stiles sighed and smiled at him softly. “Lock the door, will you?”

Derek looked down at the key in his hand. “Yes,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.” He lifted his eyes up at Stiles. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now shoo.” Stiles waved at him.

The wolf listened.

*

The fire roared.

The top of the trees situated near the castle were black with soot; nature itself seemed to wither from the devastation of life. The darkness of the night was unable to soothe the screaming coming from the suffering people.

From his hiding place in the depths of the garden, Christopher Argent watched carefully at the people who ran out of the Hale castle. He looked for the main prey. He couldn’t miss it, not again. He suffered greatly for letting one of Talia Hale’s children live; his late father took one of his eyes and left another with a harsh order not to miss it next time.

It ached, sometimes. But he was used to pain.

The wolf still didn’t show up.

One by one, the last surviving staff crawled out of the inferno and gathered together, wailing and howling from pain and loss, clutching at each other to cower away from the overwhelming horror. At last, the slow trickle of people coming out of the castle ceased.

Christopher narrowed his eye.

Whether the wolf wasn’t in the castle in the first place, or he was already dead inside. He wouldn’t be able to check and gather his cooling remains for evidence of his success until at least tomorrow.

He couldn’t disappoint Victoria. The matriarch wished for the wolf’s head, and Chris had to obey the order.

Just as he turned away to find a safer hiding spot, he noticed a figure stumbling out of the castle. He watched, as the person came out of what seemed to be the secret passage to the side of the castle. The person stumbled and coughed, shaking terribly; the idiot was carrying something in front of himself, and Chris rolled his eye. Who in their right mind would waste the time dragging something—

The person walked further, and, as he stepped close to the patch of fire-lit grass, Chris lost his breath.

The person wasn’t carrying anything. He was pregnant. He.

He was probably another freak if he was a man having a child. Who knew what those mongrels got up to, what obscene things they did. Chris could make money off him.

Maybe, Victoria would like it.

With a plan in mind and a crossbow in hands, Chris walked out of the shadows.

“Don’t scream.”

The man swiveled around, his hands clutching at his stomach. Both of them froze, the stranger from the fright and Chris from the sheer beauty of the man standing in from of him.

Chris swallowed, snapped his mouth shut and frowned. He couldn’t get distracted.

“Come with me, if you want to live,” he grunted.

The man coughed some more and reached for something behind his back.

“Don’t,” Chris warned. With every passing second he became more determined in his own plan. The possibilities of what they could do with this stranger were rising in count. Chris couldn’t kill him now.

The stranger froze. His wide eyes were standing out against his dark grey dirty skin. He was struggling to breathe and kept shaking.

“Did you do this?” he croaked and immediately lost himself in coughing.

He was weak. Easily overpowered.

“Come quietly, don’t scream. Leave whatever weapon you have on the ground,” said Chris.

For some reason, he got a real look for that.

“You have no idea what kind of weapon I have. Whether you kill me or not, you’re a dead man,” the stranger growled quietly, with his eyes blazing with fury. They didn’t flash, however, and the man remained in a human shape. Strange.

“Are you threatening me with death?” Chris muttered and slowly aimed the crossbow at the man’s stomach. The corner of his mouth jerked up at the stranger’s gasp of horror and the way he tried to close the belly with his hands, hunching on himself. “That’s what I thought.”

The stranger was looking not at him, but at the tip of the arrow pointed at him. The dried tear tracks in the soot on his face seemed to glisten again. His breathing was heavy and quick, as he appeared to think of what to do.

Both of them knew he couldn’t run. More than that, he wouldn’t be able to stop the arrow from piercing through him. Even if he had a knife, Chris would be quicker.

There was no choice.

The man closed his mouth with his hand as he realized that, sobbing quietly.

“Just don’t… don’t kill me,” he begged.

Chris’ heart gave a stuttered thump — the man was too beautiful, and even dread wasn’t able to cast a shadow on the power of it.

“I won’t,” said Chris. “I have some plans for you.”

*

The two of them were too far from the fire by the time the alpha returned. They didn’t hear his tremendous howl full of grief, horror and torture. They didn’t see what happened to him after.

*

Their names were Victoria and Christopher Argent. When Stiles, half-out of his mind with low-grade panic, remembered where he heard the last name before, he threw up.

Victoria slapped him in the face for that, but the pain almost didn’t register underneath an avalanche of dire realization. If these people found out whose child Stiles was carrying under his heart, both of them would die within seconds.

Stiles couldn’t allow them to murder another Hale. He would rather…

But he couldn’t do that, either.

Stiles had the dagger with him, still, hidden under the cloth and slowly cutting into his skin. He couldn’t attack his captors, for they were armed and there were many, and he was so frustratingly slow and laggard. The dagger had a purpose, though. A grim one, in case—

In case.

But he promised. He swore he would survive no matter what. He had to live and he had to hope.

Derek would come for him. Stiles knew it and felt no doubt. The sky was blue, the grass was green, Derek was going to come for them.

Stiles just had to do everything in his power to keep the secret and live.

*

He was thrown into an old, dingy and cold cell, which wasn’t at all surprising. It was the attitude that made Stiles think twice about everything; they gave him food, not much but barely enough, and Stiles spent a considerable amount of time sniffing it and even tried to spot a rat to feed it a piece to see if it died or not. They gave him a thin blanket, which was also a surprise. They didn’t beat him.

At first, Stiles thought they pitied him because of the pregnancy, or because he wasn’t a werewolf. Christopher did mention having some “plans” for him, though, but Stiles refused to think about what they were.

Stiles was used to being stared at, even when he got married to Derek. Lust, desire, worship. All of it stuck to Stiles like dirt. So it shouldn’t have surprised him to find the same in Christopher’s eyes. Stiles foolishly hoped that him being the size of a whale with another’s child inside him would repulse the hunter, but alas, that didn’t seem to work.

Victoria was colder than her husband. She had an air of authority about her, with her jaw clenched tight and thin lips pursed in frustration. She often threw dark glares at Stiles’ big stomach, either from jealousy or disgust — he couldn’t tell.

Stiles glared back at her.

She was the only one to recognize the telltale shimmer of his skin for what it was.

“How are you pregnant? Are you a man or a woman? How long is left? How do you give birth? Can you get pregnant again?”

All those questions, again and again. Stiles answered some of them through clenched teeth, the insignificant ones that wouldn’t pose danger to him or the pup. Mostly, he was relieved that they didn’t care about who the other parent was.

If they asked about Derek, Stiles was afraid he would burst into tears.

Not having his mate with him felt like losing a limb, like not being able to draw a breath. Stiles got so used to having Derek’s warmth with him at all times that the coldness of the cell seemed more cruel and biting because of that.

Thoughts of Derek were the only thing that kept Stiles’ spirits up. The utmost belief that his mate was coming, that Stiles just had to wait a week, a day, an hour more — and the wolf would burst through the moldy doors and sweep him into his arms. That’s what forced Stiles to keep breathing.

Stiles was uncomfortable all the time. Whether he was sitting, lying, or walking around — nothing alleviated the dull pain all over his body. His stomach was big and heavy, his skin was stretched and flaky, his feet had swollen up so much that he walked barefoot most of the time.

One day, he realized that Derek must have been stealing at least some of his pain all this time, because this was unbearable. Before, Stiles was actually enjoying the pregnancy and wondered at how surprisingly easy and relatively pain-free it was. He was uncomfortable, yes, but not to this level.

He should’ve known it was because of Derek. Of course, his mate wouldn’t let him suffer.

Stiles missed him. His touch, his smile, his soft heart, his caring hands and lustful lips. His fucking dick and his devilish knowing smirk and the way his voice softened when he called Stiles “kitten”.

The omega tried not to lie down and sob every day. He stared at the ceiling and stroked his belly, soothing the pup who was kicking up a storm inside, demanding to be petted by his alpha.

“I know, baby,” Stiles whispered in the dead of the insufferable nights, cold, sore and alone. “Papa will come for us. Just, please, for the love of the moon, wait for him.”

The pup landed a thorough kick on what felt like his liver.

Stiles breathed out, with moisture burning his eyes, and pulled the threadbare blanket around himself, shaking from the cold.

The scary thought kept nagging him, threatening to pull him into a full-blown panic.

Because what if the child… wouldn’t wait?

*

“It’s going to be okay, boy.”

Stiles spit out the last of the bile into the bucket and lifted his eyes up to glare at Christopher through tears.

The hunter’s stare wasn’t welcome. What, he couldn’t even leave Stiles to vomit in peace?

“It’s true,” Chris insisted. “We called for a doctor who specializes in those like you. He’ll take a look and everything will be—”

“Let me go.” Stiles’ knuckles went white from the hard grip on the bucket’s edge. He was shaking.

He didn’t need any doctors, shamans, or even Chris’ pity. He wanted his husband.

“I cannot do that.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. A bitter tear dropped from his eyelashes. “Why?”

Chris glanced at the entrance to the dungeon. “You know why. Let her have her show. She’ll be lenient after that.”

Of course. The show.

Stiles nearly threw up again at the thought of it, of what they wanted him to do. He readied himself for a miserable life, but even this was so horrid that his mind returned to the dagger more and more.

He wanted to have Derek with him when he gave birth. For the wolf to hold his hand and take his pain; for him to soothe Stiles with his words and touch; for them to welcome their child together. Derek would take care of the pup as Stiles recovered. He would take the child in his arms and never give him to anyone, and he would look at the pup with so much love and awe…

But the hunters didn’t consider his dreams.

Victoria announced her “freak show” and called for everyone interested to come watch the “unbelievable creature” give birth. In front of everyone.

Stiles hated them. Hated, hated, hated.

“It’s going to be rough,” Chris muttered, drilling his icy gaze into Stiles’ teared-up face. “But you’re a strong boy. You are going to get through this and then I’ll talk her into letting you stay.”

Swallowing down sobs, Stiles glanced at the hunter, trying to figure him out.

Chris wanted something. That something was him, yes, but what for, exactly? To sell? To use? Whatever it was he was willing to go against his wife’s wishes for this.

Because Victoria Argent wanted him dead.

*

“You said you called for a doctor.”

Chris frowned and looked at their guest, before shifting his gaze on Stiles. “I did…”

“Then why is this cockroach here?” Stiles bit out.

Harris smirked.

His angular face was a disappointing sight, sure, but there was nothing Stiles hated more than his satisfied smile.

Seems, like he was the only “expert” on omegas the Argents could find. If someone could call themselves an expert due to the simple fact of living in the same house, then it would be this man.

“Ah, see, there’s the distrust,” Harris pointed a finger at him, nodding to puzzled Chris. “It is what you call a survival instinct to the omegas. Too suspicious of strangers. Typical. Could you leave us alone for a moment?”

Chris tensed and narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Omegas can be shy around authority figures,” Harris shrugged. “He would probably refuse to tell me what is bothering him if you’re listening.”

Stiles scoffed. Harris never changed.

Warmed up by the not-so-subtle praise, Chris relaxed somewhat. “Alright,” he muttered. “But the cell doors remain closed.”

“Sure, sure.”

Stiles pushed down the sigh of relief. At least, there will be bars between them.

Harris waited for a few minutes after the door closed behind the Argent, and only then lifted his gaze on Stiles.

The omega refused to talk first and glared at him.

Harris chuckled. “Look at you. Pregnant, barefoot, dirty. In some hunter’s basement.”

He waited for a reaction, and when he didn’t get any, smiled wider. “I knew you’d end up like this the moment you chose to lay under the dog. Didn’t you know it’s all they want? To fuck something, spread their seed and run away to search for another bitch to breed. Did you serve the whole kennel or just him?”

“He will kill you,” Stiles hissed through the clenched teeth. He was boiling from anger, and the heat of it spread on his face; Harris probably thought it was humiliation. “He already made plans, you know. He told me how he’d do it, but I can ask him to make it last longer. My husband won’t refuse me.”

“How are you going to ask him, dove? Howl it while others fuck you?”

Stiles walked closer to the bars, gripped them in a tight-knuckled hold and glared at Harris from under his eyebrows. “Derek is coming for me,” he snarled.

And then Harris smiled.

“Is he?”

Stiles felt like he was doused in cold water, so happy Harris’ smile was. This cockroach knew something Stiles didn’t.

The omega’s heart went up to his throat, drumming through his whole body.

“He would never leave me here,” he whispered.

Harris shook his head and leaned closer, watching with pleasure as Stiles squirmed. “Didn’t you hear? The Hale alpha has gone mad.”

Stiles flinched away.

What…

Harris continued. “Rumors say, he lost his mate in the fire. A loss like that would drive anyone feral, but Hale…” he tsked. “Oh, if only you heard his howls. If only you saw how hard he cried.”

With a strange noise buzzing in his ears, Stiles backed up into the wall and tried to breathe. The pup kicked him, and that was the only thing keeping him afloat and aware of his surroundings.

“There is no Derek Hale anymore,” said Harris. “Only wolf. You’re dead to him. How long have you been here? No one is coming for you, Stiles. No one.”

*

The omega’s muffled sobbing tore his heart apart.

Chris sat in the omega’s cell, pressing the boy’s trembling body to his, and smoothed a hand down his spine, back and forth. It was the first time he allowed Chris to get close, even if he trashed and resisted in the beginning. And, oh, to hold him in his arms was divine.

“Shh, darling, shh…”

The boy sobbed louder.

“I know it’s hard. We will get through this. Don’t cry,” Chris rubbed his shoulder, slipping his fingers inside the collar of the shirt.

His skin was so soft…

“Now you understand that werewolves are animals?” he spit out. “He lied to you, used you and then ran away the minute he could.”

The sobbing subsided. The omega sniffled and lifted his angelic face from Chris’ shoulder to meet his gaze. Even with tears running down his face and puffy eyes, the boy was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. That innocent blush, those lips and the naïve questioning gaze.

“What did you say?” he croaked, hiccupping.

Chris rubbed a finger down his pink cheek. “You must stay with humans. With me. I’ll talk to Victoria, don’t worry about her. I’m not going to lie, I might have to share you with some, but the rest of the time you will be mine.” He swiped the hair off the omega’s forehead and met his blank stare. “I’ll even be nice if you promise not to fight.”

The omega let out a shuddered breath and arched his eyebrows. He looked as innocent as he truly was, despite the child forced upon him.

Chris couldn’t wait to get rid of it, so the omega would be his.

“Really?” said the boy, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I swear. I will protect you. Want me to prove it?”

“How?”

Chris’ heart beat faster. “I’m going to bring you the wolf’s head.”

The omega’s stunned slack face made him laugh.

“The wolf’s..?”

“Hale’s.”

The boy’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes widened as if in fear, and Chris hurried to calm him down. “Don’t you worry. I’m stronger than that mongrel. I will bring revenge upon him in your name. Just you wait.”

They looked at each other for a long time. The omega clearly needed time to think about the implications, but Chris saw the moment the first bids of trust bloomed on the deific face.

The boy cleared his throat, lowered his eyes demurely and put his hand on Chris’ chest, rubbing up and down, almost up to his throat. Oh, if only he wasn’t disfigured with a child, Chris would have him right then and there.

“He won’t come to you,” Stiles murmured in a husky voice. “He might be an animal, but he has instincts…”

“Don’t tell me how to hunt dogs.”

“No, of course, I would never… I know I’m… in capable hands.” The omega sent a shy trembling smile his way, and Chris preened. “I just… you will need a bait.”

The boy gasped as Chris grabbed his chin in a tight grip.

“I am not letting you out, boy, I told you multiple times. Are you testing me?” Chris glared at him.

The omega shook his head in desperation. “N-no! I just have a suggestion!”

Chris released him and narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

The omega gulped. He leaned back and tugged the pillow they gave him towards himself. Without any explanation, he tore the piece of the pillowcase and showed it to the hunter.

“We soak it in my blood,” Stiles said quietly, still sniffling. “He would recognize my scent since it will be so potent. Then he’d allow you to get close.”

Chris stared at him, astounded. He then cupped the boy’s face and leaned forward to—

The boy flinched away. “No,” he snapped, before lowering his eyes again. His face went red, and the beauty of it was the only thing that stopped Chris from smacking him. “You’ll get your fill when you bring me the wolf. It will be my gift to you,” his voice trembled.

This little angel seemed to want attention. He probably longed for Chris’ gentle touch instead of the claws that had been tearing him apart. Chris had other plans, but he could be gentle sometimes, sure.

He smiled.

“Can’t wait to taste you,” he traced his thumb across the boy’s lips. “You’re so pretty, you know?”

Sighing at the omega’s wobbly smile, Chris took out his knife, grabbed the boy’s hand and sliced across the palm.

The omega gulped down a shout. What a good boy.

The blood spread across the dirty fabric like a dawn across the sky.

*

Stiles bore the painful stinging with his jaw clenched shut. He would take care of the wound later. Right now he desperately wanted to just fucking wash his hands.

Disgusting fucker. How could hunters be so fucking stupid? Did Argent really think he was that dumb and easy?

Well, people did lose their minds when they saw him…

Stiles took a fucking oath to his husband. To do anything in his power to survive and get back to Derek. However, if Derek wouldn’t come to him, then Stiles would have to bring a piece of himself to his mate.

Yes, Chris, here you are, take a cloth soaked in my blood. Derek would never think that you brought me harm and will wag his fucking tail upon seeing you.

Stupid.

His wolf would eviscerate the man until there was nothing left to recognize.

Stiles just hoped Derek would have enough of the mind to follow the trail and come back to him.

*

Chris didn’t return the next day.

Or the next.

By the fifth day, Victoria stopped paying Stiles the usual attention and seemed to think hard about something else, while dropping him food.

At the end of the fifth day, Stiles smiled for the first time in a while.

Tear him apart, Derek. Show him how sharp your teeth are. Don’t leave a single piece whole.

*

What terrified him the most wasn’t the pain that woke him up. It was the fact that it was too early.

Opening his mouth in a silent gasp, Stiles lifted up on his elbows and immediately fell back down. He cupped his stomach, which had dropped during the past few weeks — the fact that Stiles tried to steadily ignore for his own peace of mind.

This was supposed to be joyous. He thought he would lay in a soft warm bed in the sanctuary of their bedroom, surrounded by trusted people who cared about him and wanted what was best. He thought that he would hold Derek’s hand.

And, the stupid thing is, Stiles had never doubted that this would be the case. Even after weeks of imprisonment, coldness and dread, he was firm in his belief that Derek would come.

Then Harris told him the truth.

Stiles stared at the dirty stone ceiling, as tears slid down his temples.

He was alone.

No one was going to help him. No one would comfort him with tender words and caring touch. He was going to go through this frightening, draining but at the same time miraculous ordeal by himself. Just him and his child.

Stiles grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut to squeeze the salty tears out.

Alone, then. Fine. Fucking fine. In his circumstances, that’s even better. It was nighttime, so Victoria would only come to torment him in the early morning. He had a night. Just one, to deliver his baby and maybe hold him for some time, for however much it would take for him to bleed out.

Because that’s what was going to happen.

Usually, omega males die after birth. It was the reason there were so few of them. They had no way to push the baby out, so someone had to slice them open to save at least the baby. Stiles had nightmares about it for a very long time.

Fortunately for Stiles, his husband was adamant about keeping him alive after receiving an heir. He and Derek had it all planned. Derek would be the one to open him up because there was no way the wolf would allow anyone else to do that. Once the baby was out, Derek would heal him and they all were going to be a happy family.

Panting harshly from another contraction, Stiles rolled over to his knees. His arms shook from the exhaustion, pain and panic. The change of position did nothing to alleviate the pain, and Stiles swallowed a whimper from the realization that nothing ever would. Not for the few hours that were left of his life. This was his end.

Maybe, Derek would find their child alive, at least. Stiles knew he was grasping at the last straws of hope, but it was the only thing that kept him going these days. It was a scary thought, the one that made him recoil and wail, but perhaps, the hunters would keep his cub alive. For entertainment or… whatever. Just to give Derek time to find him.

But first, Stiles had to do his part.

Stiles slid his shaky hand inside his pants and to his right thigh until he felt the warm handle of his dagger. The blade nicked his skin when he took it out, but the pain didn’t register, so insignificant it was.

The dagger would have to become his claws. He kept it hidden just for this. Just in case.

Stiles cried. He vomited, he tried to walk it off, clinging to the walls and sweating; he tried to lie and lean on the bed with his knees on the floor, but nothing helped. The tears kept coming and coming, so much so that Stiles stopped noticing them.

He tried to keep quiet for as long as he could, biting his lips to blood. Let him have this time to mourn his life, to grieve for his past and future, to pray for his little miracle, his child, his baby, his breath and his sun, his soul and love.

“You’re going to live, little one,” Stiles grit through his clenched teeth, his nails digging into the dagger’s many gems. “You are a Hale, you have no choice but to live. Be like your Papa, be strong, be brave, my little wolf. You have to be there for your alpha. You have no idea how much your Papa loves you. How I love you.”

He was giving his life to this baby. It was a willful sweet surrender.

He swayed in place, almost delirious from the pain of the contractions. It was still too early to slice himself open.

Derek, Derek, Derek…

“You know what, kiddo,” Stiles whispered harshly with a mad smile on his teary red face. “You better look like me. Just for you to know what I looked like. And so that your Papa wouldn’t forget me,” he panted out a laugh, closing his eyes. “So that even if he marries again, my face would haunt him down to the end of his days. He’s my wolf. Both of you are mine. Just don’t tell him I said this, alright, love?”

Someone stifled a gasp behind him.

Stiles froze in place; his overheated, big and sweaty body was suddenly drenched in cold. He turned his head and saw one of the guards peeking inside his cell with his eyes wide.

No…

“Please.” Stiles’ whisper made the man jump and lift his eyes from the stomach. “Please, don’t tell her.”

The guard blinked at him, then turned around and fled.

Stiles screamed at him for a long time. No point in keeping it inside anymore, so he let it all out.

He was still wailing when Victoria came.

Her nostrils flared from anger, annoyance and the sharp smell of vomit. She stared at him, probably furious that he messed up her plans for the show.

“Please…” Stiles begged because there was nothing else he could do.

Victoria turned to the guards. “Send horses. Apprise the nearest. I’ll have at least some of them to pay for this.” She threw a withering glance at Stiles’ hunched figure. “And take the knife away from him.”

*

He begged and he pleaded, cursed and shouted, but Victoria only smiled.

“You think I’ll give you an easy way out?” she said. The woman was deaf to his explanations, and she waved away his pleadings like they were some annoying flies.

They dragged stumbling Stiles out of his cage, through the tunnels, past the other captives that were rotting alive in other cages. As they moved up, the surroundings became cleaner, more polished. The walls weren’t dirty and the silver shined from every corner. Silver and stone, black everywhere, dark and cold.

Stiles hated that this would be the first place his child would see. If they don’t suffocate inside his womb first.

He was vaguely aware of being dropped on some sort of a pedestal in the center of the lushly decorated room with seats all around it. The sight made him throw up again on one of the guards. He received a kick, but thankfully it was on the thigh.

Stiles’ stomach was contracting fully now. His body kept pushing, even though it was pointless. He wished he was numb from pain, but it seemed to only increase.

How? How was it possible to feel more pain and be alive? This was his torture.

His eyes widened in horror as the people slowly started trickling in. Their cheeks were red from the fresh cold, their fur coats wet with rain and snow. Some of them arrived with spouses, some barked at their servants to find them a seat with nicer view.

None of them blinked an eye at the nearly naked pregnant omega, writhing from pain in the center of the floor.

Stiles sobbed. His soul hurt. How could anyone treat someone like this? How could they watch him wail in agony and smirk? Did they not have hearts? Did they have a soul? A consciousness?

When enough of the guests arrived, Victoria ordered to strip him naked. Whether it was for a better view or to further humiliate him, Stiles didn’t know. He wished he didn’t care. He prayed that his body would stop shaking and wringing around enough for him to cover himself with his hands at least.

They’re not allowed to see his skin, his bared soul, his pain. Everything in him belonged to Derek. They were intruding, their gazes clawed him apart, their interested hums and hushed whispers dug into him with hooks and tugged in different directions.

At some point, Stiles became blind with pain. He saw the ceiling with the wide silver lamp that kept dripping wax. He saw shadows, and he saw light.

He didn’t understand what he did to deserve this.

Stiles slid a hand to his belly. Half out of his mind, he started scratching it, digging nails into it. He didn’t have much strength left, if at all, but he had to let his child breathe. He had to get him out.

He didn’t get far, however, as someone kicked at his hand.

Why wouldn’t they let him do this?

Stiles blinked tears out of his eyes and saw Victoria standing to the side of him.

“Don’t,” she bit out.

“I cannot bear it anymore,” Stiles breathed out, his voice raw and bleeding. “Please… Have mercy.”

“Either you die together, or I kill you first. Then we’ll see whether your little beast has enough strength to claw itself out of your dead body.”

Stiles shook his head from side to side, praying for the image to leave his mind. He trashed and clutched at his stomach. And then he screamed.

Derek, Derek, De—

And then, something made him choke on his own wail. Every person stilled, their eyes widening.

There was a howl, coming from outside.

It was somewhere very close.

Watching Victoria’s face pale with each passing moment, and drunk on the euphoria mixed with pain, Stiles put his hands around his mouth and howled. It came out weak and pathetic, but Stiles didn’t care, because in the next moment he received another answering howl.

His wolf had come.

Stiles smiled. It was the last thing he remembered.

*

Sharp searing pain.

Weird tugging. Warmth, trickling.

The click of the nails against polished floors. Huffing. The sharp smell of wet fur and blood.

More pain.

A growl, another tug and someone’s high mewling wail.

Stiles opened his eyes.

His chest was too warm, and wet for some reason. Stiles blinked the darkness out of his eyes and turned his heavy head as much as he could.

There was an infant, red and wet, squirming and squeaking, ugly and so indescribably beautiful.

Stiles breathed out, for there was no strength in him to speak. He jerked his hands enough and managed to put one of them around the newborn. The babe whimpered from the coldness of his skin.

I’m sorry, Stiles wanted to say but ended up just staring.

There was a strange numbing and tugging sensation on his lower stomach, but Stiles couldn’t tear his gaze away from the child. It was almost like his mind was too weak to focus on two things at once, and chose the most important one.

I love you, Stiles wanted to say to this squirming shaking mewling mess of a newborn, I love you and I’m so happy you’re breathing.

The tugging stopped. A shadow fell upon him. Someone’s heated breath spread all over his chest.

A long pink tongue licked across the newborn’s face, making it cry out in annoyance, but the tongue kept licking.

Stiles lifted his gaze. The tears came unbidden but were left unnoticed.

Derek.

A humongous wolf the size of a small horse, black as the starless winter night, covered in something red and glistening, licked the infant babe clean of the fluids. His huffs were the only source of warmth for both of them.

Derek.

Stiles lay with his cracked lips half open, gazing at his feral husband with tear-filled eyes, clutching their child to his chest. It was as primal as it could be, essential and bare. Weirdly, Stiles didn’t feel naked, not like before. Maybe, because of the hulking beast looming over him. Maybe because of the sudden lack of any pain. The wolf must have taken every bit of it, and it left the spinning void in its place, vast and empty, free of thought.

Someone coughed and choked. Stiles started to turn his head to the side because he knew there should’ve been people around, but the wolf nudged him gently on the cheek to keep his gaze up.

Stiles was too worn out to protest. If his wolf thought it would be better for him not to look, then he wouldn’t.

Instead, he stared at his mate.

Derek was drenched in blood. Stiles didn’t know whose it was, but he didn’t see any cuts on his body. Nor did he hear anyone.

The wolf’s eyes revealed nothing. They glowed crimson, and they watched Stiles’ face carefully, but was his husband fully there? Stiles couldn’t understand, couldn’t see whether there was an inkling of human intelligence behind that predatory glare or not.

Was his husband completely feral? Would he recover? Did Stiles really need him to?

The wolf settled beside Stiles, swung one of its massive paws across Stiles and the baby to keep them warm and started licking Stiles’ neck and cheeks.

Stiles decided then, that… he didn’t, really.

He married a wolf. The strongest, the fiercest, the one whose loyalty would ascend to the same strength as love beheld. His husband was in front of him, maybe not in the form he craved right now, but the one he needed.

I never doubted you, he wanted to say but closed his eyes and pressed the whimpering child closer to himself. They lied to me, said you forgot me, and I, a fool, believed it. But they couldn’t take the hope away from me, for they are not strong enough. I knew you’d come for us.

Take me away from here.

*

Waking up to the same black-silver-stone had nearly sent Stiles into another panic, but then...

Warmth. Arms around him, clawed fingers slowly stroking his shoulder blades back and forth.

No pain.

Opening his eyes with reluctant fearful hope, Stiles gasped at the sight.

“Derek.”

Derek watched him with a somber but relaxed face. He didn’t answer, just stared at him with the same red eyes.

Stiles didn’t care.

Careful to the soft tiny blossom of a child sleeping between them, Stiles reached out with a hand and cupped Derek’s face. He seemed wild, wilder than before, with every tense line screaming “predator” back at him. It was clear he hadn’t trimmed his hair or beard in a while. Nor did he talk, or appeared to have human thoughts.

“I missed you,” Stiles breathed out.

Derek took Stiles’ hand and put his nose against the thin wrist. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

I missed you, too.

“We have a kid,” Stiles’ whispery laugh was quietened by the lone tear that dropped from his lashes.

Both of them looked at the pure innocence lying between them.

Derek leaned down, put his entire face against the side of the baby’s body and breathed, rumbling from the sweet mix of their scents. So soft, and sweet, and fragile. A wonder, an angel.

Theirs.

“Hold me?” Stiles begged under his breath.

Derek looked up at him.

“The child is here, you’re here.” Stiles shrugged one shoulder and sniffed. “I just need you to hold me. Just for a little bit.”

Derek remained still for such a long time that the lodge inside Stiles’ throat began to suffocate him. At last, the wolf moved. Stiles soaked in the grace of his movements, the nakedness of the body so dear to him, and he was a greedy, greedy man. Derek lay on the other side of him, slid his thigh between Stiles’ legs, and put his arm around Stiles’ torso, careful around the lower part.

The noise that left Stiles’ lips when Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck was something that no one but the two of them had the right to hear.

He put his arms around the wolf, his fingers into the black hair, and gripped, squeezing him tight and close. His eyes burned worse than fire, and the weight on his chest made him struggle to take a breath. It wasn’t the weight of his mate, but of what he went through.

Derek’s presence meant that he could relax. Derek’s embrace meant healing and safety. The alpha had the unique ability to open Stiles up, peel his layers and dig deep, and make Stiles comfortable while doing it.

So, of course, he cried.

Those were quiet, painful, stifled sobs that shook his entire frame, blinded his eyes and stung his throat. Stiles never wanted to experience anything but the weight of Derek’s body against his and the saccharine warmth of their child sleeping next to them.

He didn’t need water, for Derek was the pouring rain. He didn’t need food, for Derek made him full with the mere gaze of his eyes. What was the sun if not a cinder next to the tremendous light and blinding heat of Derek’s love?

Stiles didn’t need him to speak. Derek could stay silent for the rest of their lives, he just needed to be close. That was enough.

Derek stayed with him. Stiles cried and sobbed, and dug his nails into the wolf’s thick skin.

And he felt lighter.

*

Derek forced him to close his eyes when they finally decided to leave.

The manor was silent the entire time they stayed there. The wind was the only rightful host left, whirling around and wailing about its ownership.

It was impossible not to notice, but easy to not wonder.

It warmed Stiles’ heart to know that Derek was still trying to protect him, even after the… even after. The wolf did nothing but care for him ever since.

He still wouldn’t utter a word, just grumble, nod, point and touch. Stiles, who had a hard time tearing his gaze off his husband, understood every tilt of his head and every hum.

So when they walked out of the room they claimed theirs, when Derek took their child, grabbed Stiles’ face and tucked it into his neck, when the wolf led him blind and clueless through the maze of the cold unfamiliar halls, Stiles didn’t protest.

*

“Do we even have a home?” Stiles asked reluctantly.

Derek grabbed him gently by the waist and pressed them close, kissing up Stiles’ neck, before softly biting him on the edge of his jaw.

You have me, his touch said.

Their son, Eli, let out a little meep, agreeing with his alpha. Traitor.

*

They went to live in one of Derek’s summer houses. It had just a handful of staff with Erica the cook and Boyd the housekeeper — a mated couple with a curly-haired toddler hiding shyly behind the woman’s skirt, and a couple of old guards — a tight-knit little community of kind people who kept their reactions to themselves when the three of them came without any warning.

Stiles was sure they would be the talk of the town very soon, but he was thankful for their genuine smiles and their lack of questions. It was likely because they were afraid of Derek who looked ready to jump on anyone who dared to look at Stiles wrong, but Stiles was glad either way.

Most of the time Stiles stayed in bed. Even though Derek had healed him by licking his wound close, the wolf still growled at him to make sure he rested. All that was left of the bleeding open cut was a soft pink slightly raised scar across his lower abdomen. It didn’t hurt. Derek hadn’t let him experience even a smidge of pain since that day.

Thus, he stayed in bed.

Having Eli and Derek close helped. The baby was too small to do anything but cry, sleep and eat, and was content to snooze on either one of his parents. Sometimes, Stiles and Derek stared at him for hours in disbelief and humbling awe.

But sometimes, Stiles didn’t even have the energy to lift his head.

He hated the cold now. It was something that made him shake, as the images flooded his head. He couldn’t stomach it. He couldn’t even stand to drink his water cold.

But, again. Derek.

Well, Derek and Eli. Stiles had both of them now, wonderfully warm and close and craving his touch. The heat of their skin soaked into Stiles, seeping inside his veins and muscles, down to his very soul.

Stiles didn’t let go of Derek, and Derek didn’t let his gaze off Stiles.

The wolf went away sometimes, Stiles knew it; there was fresh game on the table, new clothes and fabrics and things for Eli. Derek did it when Stiles was asleep, and never mentioned it afterward.

Stiles couldn’t stand him being away. In the end, this was the exact thing that made Derek talk.

It was a night as same as others, except when Stiles woke up, Derek wasn’t there.

He jumped up, his heart in his throat and an inexplicable noise in his ears. Clutching the covers, Stiles looked around with bated breath and froze when he saw Derek standing near one of the drawers in full attire.

“Where are you going?” Stiles croaked harshly. The coldness seeped into him, further and deeper, and Stiles hated it.

Derek turned to him and frowned slightly, looking him over.

But Stiles was already lost. He threw the covers off himself, stood up on his knees and clenched his fists, breathing through his teeth.

“Are you leaving me?” he seethed. “Again?!”

Eli started crying from the sudden spooky noise, but Stiles was too wound up. He would soothe his son, but first, he needed to stop Derek.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me alone!” Stiles wanted to shout, but his voice broke at the end. His throat seemed tighter and drier by the second. “Do you hear me, Derek Hale?!”

A flash of red eyes, and then someone grabbed him by the shoulders. The fuming hurt in Derek’s red eyes rendered him speechless and frozen.

“Stop,” Derek growled into his face, shaking him a little. Eli continued sobbing. “Must… care.”

The words seemed an enormous task for the wolf. He kept pushing them out in a rumbly, animalistic voice, with his upper lip lifted in a snarl.

“Send someone else to bring us food! Anyone! Don’t bring it at all, I don’t need it, I don’t need anything but you, here, do you understand?” said Stiles, staring at the scowling face.

“Mine.”

Stiles lifted his gaze to the ceiling in exasperation. “I know we’re yours. I know you should be the one to provide for us, but right now, please, please—” Stiles shut his burning eyes. “Don’t leave. Don’t ask me to stay alone. I have no strength for that.”

After a few moments of tense silence, Derek relented. He nodded at the bed, then went back to the wardrobe, but this time to take the clothes off.

Stiles watched him from the bed like a hawk, barely keeping his heart in his chest.

Soon, Derek joined him. He tucked Eli close to himself; his gentle huffs and rumble soothed the babe as if by a miracle. Then, he turned to Stiles and opened his arm.

The omega didn’t waste a chance. He dove right in for the embrace and clung to Derek’s sturdy frame probably to the point of pain. It was a long time before the shaking stopped.

Derek remained silent, and just purred, knowing about the calming effect of it. He held his family close, soothing them with touch and his presence. Both his mate and child.

They changed so much, irreversibly. Both he and Derek. Nothing would ever be the same.

Stiles couldn’t stand cold. They never closed the door now, and the curtains on the window stayed open at all times so that he could see the sky and breathe in the freedom.

Derek was still affected by the time he spent in a feral state. He needed to recover from the torturous belief of his mate and child being dead. It was a wonder Stiles had him in his human form right now; Derek comprehended the reality somewhat at least, but he still had the distinct mannerisms of a wolf. He scented them a lot, nuzzled and huffed; he liked when Stiles took the food not from the plate but directly from Derek’s hands, or better, let the wolf feed him. He prowled, and he snarled, and he watched his family at all times.

Stiles didn’t feel any less loved. Their love was tinged with apprehension and the echoes of agony, with trembling hope and shaking despair, but it was there, strong, hot and fierce.

Derek was here. Everything else was meaningless.

*

Stifled moans left Stiles’ lips, only to be picked up by Derek’s. The wolf stole his heavy breath with slow and languid kisses, with hunger, greed and tenderness.

The heat of their naked bodies sliding against one another, the slick sweat soaking out of their skin. Slight creaking of the bed, and the dim fire of the candle.

They were making love, soft and sweet, and just enough to make it last a while. Derek thrust in between his spread thighs, framed by Stiles’ long legs. He circled his hips and forced his thick cock deeper inside, groaning into Stiles’ neck at the tight clench.

They couldn’t stop kissing. His lips were red and bitten, but Stiles kept kissing his husband with his fingers gripping his hair tight. He had Derek exactly where he wanted him.

“Ah…”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to the side as Derek pulled out only to slam it back inside. He kept a hard pace for some time, biting Stiles’ neck before he slowed down again.

Stiles was ready to cry from his gentleness, from the attention and lust.

Maybe they were right to call him a slut, because how could he explain the euphoric happiness that filled him when he was stretched by Derek’s dick? It was so fucking hot, hard and heavy, and it filled him so nicely…

It sounded wild, but when they were having sex, Stiles almost felt like his old self again. Like he was healing. The moans, the heavy breaths, the closeness of Derek’s body, so perfect and beautiful and here, deep inside.

He loved being kissed, and he loved being fucked.

Perhaps, it was because sex was something he only experienced with Derek. The alpha was the only one to know him like this, to touch him so reverently and treat him with such vulnerable care. Stiles knew hunger, he knew captivity and hurt, he knew a caring touch, but this belonged to Derek.

Maybe, that’s what was healing him. Derek drove into him the knowledge and the indisputable proof that he was here, that they were together, that they were one. Derek owned Stiles. No nightmare or panic held any power over him when his wolf claimed him so beautifully.

“Derek…”

Stiles put his open mouth against Derek’s cheek, as the alpha’s thrusts became quick, hard and erratic. They were so close. The slick sounds of their coupling, the slaps of skin against skin, sharp gasps and bitten-off moans, all of it added to the love, made it more real.

Derek slammed inside. Copious amounts of hot thick cum filled him, and Stiles hummed in appreciation. He trailed soft kisses on Derek’s stubble-covered cheek, clenching his hole around the wolf’s pulsing throbbing cock. He smiled to himself when he heard Derek groan.

“I love you,” said Stiles. Just to let him know, one more time.

Derek hummed. Panting, he kissed up Stiles’ neck until he reached his mouth and kissed the smile off his lips.

“Love,” he grunted, nuzzling Stiles’ cheek with the sharp tip of his nose. “Mine.”

*

“I can’t believe you’re the first of us to have a kid,” said Lydia, staring at Eli.

The baby cackled, scrunching his nose, and threw a toy at her feet. Lydia arched an eyebrow. Smiling to herself, Allison picked up the toy and offered it back to Eli.

“And why would you say that?” said Stiles, not offended in the slightest. Lydia was always blunt and didn’t shy away from the truth.

Lydia arched her elegant eyebrow. She swirled the white-gold teaspoon in a porcelain cup full of sweet hot tea and laid it gently back onto the plate. “Please. Weren’t you the one that cried yourself to sleep at the thought of being pregnant?”

“It wasn’t because of the pregnancy, but of the imminent threat of death immediately after,” Stiles noticed, settling Eli more comfortably on his thigh. His son leaned back against him with a funny sigh, let out an inquisitive “buh” and threw his spit-covered wolf figurine on the floor. He stared at the toy for a while, then glanced up at Allison and put his fingers in his mouth.

Allison’s eyes were full of mirth. A drastic difference from how she looked earlier that day.

It was, surprisingly, Derek’s idea. He thought this would cheer Stiles up and force him out of their castle, in which they resided for the last six months. Besides, the wolf couldn’t not notice the sad sighs Stiles let out while writing to his so-called sisters.

They arranged to meet at Lydia’s house, as her husband was away. He seemed to always be away, leaving Lydia to her full rein.

“I don’t know why he’s away, and why would I even care?” Lydia usually answered, with a hint of frustration in her voice. She quickly changed the subject afterward and tried to hide her slightly shaking hands.

Stiles and Allison didn’t ask.

Lydia kept her house immaculate, and her staff well-trained. Lord Whittemore allowed her to rule in his absence; he left her the luxuries, countless dresses and jewelry, faithful servants and acres of fertile land. The last time he visited her was last year.

Allison arrived with a smile a bit too wide. She was always the little spark of their group, always smiling and laughing, trying to stay bright and choking herself on happiness. She appeared well-dressed, too, and looked stunning in her sky-blue gown, but the shine of it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

They hugged and kissed and cried a little, even Lydia.

And then Stiles introduced them to his husband and child.

Earlier, Derek decided to give them a little time together to settle and calm down. He and Eli were “off to walk”; Stiles knew his wolves were anxious and uncomfortable with new scents and needed to familiarize themselves with new territory, so he let them do whatever.

Derek was as polite as he could be in a state like his. Despite the speech returning to him, it still did so in tiny increments; he still looked wild and angry, with a scowl etched onto his dark face.

The girls tried not to lean away in fear, but it was still painfully obvious how terrified they were. Allison had her eyes wider than ever, and Lydia paled so much that her blush stood out in patchy spots on her lovely face.

All of them were polite, though, and greeted each other as the etiquette required.

Eli saved them all. He sat in Derek’s arms like an angel, shy, giggly and blushing, and made everyone melt with his toothless smile. Stiles tried not to roll his eyes. This was certainly his kid — Eli knew when to act innocent while being an absolute mischievous menace at home. The whole household dreaded the moment he would start crawling.

Derek did roll his eyes. He plopped Eli into Stiles’ arms, smacked a rough kiss on his cheek and muttered something about taking a stroll. He was probably pacing around, digging into every crevice and under every curtain, glaring off into the distance and scaring the staff.

A perfect wolf protecting his family. Stiles hoped he was having at least some fun.

“Besides, I didn’t expect to have Derek,” said Stiles, locking his hands on Eli’s belly. The boy started to smack them and kicked his feet.

Allison looked dubious. “Your husband, he looked so…” she lowered her eyes and pursed her lips. “Is everything alright?”

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lydia sighed. “Is he treating you well?”

“Lydia!”

“What?” she looked at flummoxed Allison. “I’m asking because it’s what both of us think. He looks scary and angry. Admit it.”

“I does look so.”

“And?” Lydia waved at him. “Does he care? Is he too rough with you?”

Stiles had a blooming suspicion that some of it wasn’t really about him.

“Lyds,” he started in a gentle, but firm voice. “Me and Eli, we are everything to him.”

Allison looked down at her knees and started picking at her nails. Lydia’s narrowed gaze softened somewhat.

“Wolves are pack-oriented creatures,” Stiles continued, stroking Eli’s tummy as the baby babbled nonsense at him. “And we are his pack. He loves us, he cares about us and protects. I know how it feels to be safe, because of him.”

“He’s… a wolf,” Allison mumbled, almost scared.

“Yeah,” Stiles couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, he is.” He glanced up at the girls and huffed a laugh. “He’s gentle with me. There’s no need to worry. He’s not going to show his soft underbelly to strangers, that’s ridiculous.”

“I guess,” Lydia hummed, still thinking.

Eli looked up and grinned when Stiles met his gaze. Overwhelmed with something soft and tender, Stiles lifted his son up, turned him around and proceeded to kiss all over his little squishy face. Eli fell apart in laughter. He squirmed and kicked his little feet in excitement, before slapping his hands on Stiles’ cheeks and screeching at him.

Stiles’ heart could burst with love.

Glancing back, he noticed tears in Allison’s eyes.

“Ally?”

The girl shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re happy.” She smiled widely, with dimples appearing on her cheeks.

Lydia watched her for some time, while Stiles was distracted by the baby, and now had this look on her face that meant that she wouldn’t let them leave without answers.

“So,” she cleared her throat at pinned poor Allison in place with her gaze. “Should Eli expect a cousin soon?”

Allison burst into tears.

It took a long time to soothe her hysteria. Even Eli (who, in fact, would not get a cousin) quietened, staring at the girl with his blue eyes wide and puzzled. After several teacups and a lot of hugs, she calmed down enough to share the weight that’s been pulling on her heart.

After her tale, Stiles understood why Lydia was so suspicious of him because Allison sounded just as biased as he was.

“Scott loves me, he does,” Allison smiled through hiccups. “He dotes on me and worships me, he says I’m the angel from above, and that he loves me with all his heart. And he does! He has so much love to give—”

“Let me guess,” interrupted Lydia. “He has so much love that he gives it to others?”

“It’s… It’s not like that,” Allison sniffed, glancing pitifully at them. “Lahey is his old friend, dear friend, so I understand it. And Kira is such a lovely bright girl. She’s our guest, and she’s new to the place and I know how it is to feel like a stranger in a new home. And Scott… He tries to make her feel welcome. And he’s so nice to her.”

“Is he nice to her in bed, too?” Lydia bit out.

Stiles sighed, as the tears fell down Allison’s face again.

It seemed like the answer was “yes”.

*

At the end of the day, he was blinded by the shine of Lydia’s jewelry and dried up by the pearls of Allison’s tears.

After that, Derek’s scowly face was an incredibly welcome sight. And he wasn’t the only one relieved; when the wolf stormed into the room, Eli let out a joyous scream, kicked Stiles in the stomach and extended his small hands to his Papa.

Derek’s lips jerked in the beginning of a smile. How could one not melt upon seeing the genuine joy of love on the child’s face?

Uncaring about the suddenly quiet crowd, Derek marched to Stiles, swept Eli in his arms and laid a kiss on his cheek, making Eli squirm away from his ticklish beard. The wolf then cast a look at Stiles, and something tender bloomed in the depth of those eyes.

The wolf didn’t say anything, just offered his hand.

Stiles gladly took it. Perhaps, he was too fast, because Lydia narrowed his eyes at Derek.

“He can stay if he wants,” she said with a challenge in her voice.

Derek glanced at her, then at Stiles and arched an eyebrow in question.

“Lydia, it’s fine,” Stiles said with a peaceful smile on his face. “Eli needs food and sleep. You can go on without me, I will see you tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t disappear on us this time,” Allison shook a finger at him.

“I won’t.”

After thankfully tear-free goodbyes, Derek led Stiles out of the house. They had to walk a bit to reach the guest house Lydia gave to them (because Whittemore was too rich to have a guest bedroom), so they settled in for a nice stroll.

The night was young, and the air was full of flowery nectar from Lydia’s gardens. Cicadas, a lone cuckoo somewhere far away and the whisper of the leaves; all of it felt like a nice refreshment after a tiring day. Even Eli calmed down; he laid his head on Derek’s shoulder and blinked sleepily, clutching at the button on Derek’s collar.

Grasping at Derek’s hand with both of his, Stiles realized just how much he missed Derek during the day. He wasn’t as crazy without him as he was before, but it still felt unsettling. Stiles doubted he would ever feel comfortable without having Derek close to him.

Based on the tight answering grip, Derek felt the same. The alpha put his nose against the thin strands of Eli’s chestnut hair and inhaled his sweet scent, closing his eyes from the loveliness of it.

Stiles watched them with his cheek on Derek’s shoulder.

He thought about Whittemore’s gluttony for luxury and McCall’s capacity to love. He thought of how crazy his decisions were up to this point and where they led him.

That fateful evening, he looked around the big ballroom and picked a wild, direful wolf from the sea of normal people. For all he knew he could’ve been dead by midnight, yet instead, he found gold.

He was going insane with want, enough to kiss him first, only to be blessed with a gift of a heart so scarred and tender it hurt to own it.

He kept hoping, in the darkest times. He kept living, no matter how much it filled him with dread.

Stiles watched as Eli’s long eyelashes kissed the smooth surface of his peachy-soft cheeks. His son had Stiles’ button nose and his pouty lips, but the fierceness of his blue-green eyes was all Derek’s.

Stiles didn’t know what it said about him, but he was glad Eli wasn’t an omega. He cried tears of relief when Eli’s eyes flashed gold one day and Derek declared him a wolf. His husband was frustrated at him for some reason after seeing such relief. Yes, Stiles knew Derek loved him as he was and if Eli turned out to be an omega, he wouldn’t love him any less. However, Stiles wouldn’t wish this life for anyone.

He was lucky, in a way. Despite everything, the horror he experienced was in the past. His sisters, however, had their hearts tortured every day. He could only hope they would find their happiness eventually.

“Derek?”

The wolf looked at him. Oh, how stunning he was. No stars could ever compete in beauty with this man.

Stiles smiled. “I’m so glad I chose you,” he confessed quietly.

Under the dusky covers of the newborn night, the wolf’s lips curled up in a smile. The sight of it warmed Stiles down to his bones.

Derek huffed a laugh at the ridiculous smitten grin on his face. The wolf caught his chin and kissed him, soft and gentle.

It was the loudest I love you. The only one Stiles needed, at the end.