the_deep_magic | FIC: Teen Wolf -- Entelechy

Title: Entelechy
Author: the_deep_magic
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7,243
Warning: knotting
Disclaimer: Definitely not making any money on this.
Summary: entelechy (n): a realization or actuality as opposed to a potentiality
A/N: This was originally a fill for a mating_games fic challenge, but the first draft was 3,000 words over the 750-word limit. I put up a partially expanded version in my reveal post, but this is the whole story as I wanted to tell it. Diverges from canon after season 2.

Derek walks quietly into their room in case Stiles is still sleeping, but now the footsteps bring him to full alertness in a second. As he sits up the sheet slides down, revealing Stiles bare chest, only a few smears of blood left. Derek places his hand over Stiles’ heart where the puncture marks have almost faded. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want this.”

Stiles puts his hands over Derek and gives him a hard look. “I wanted to live. And I gave you permission a long time ago.”

Derek tries to hold his eyes, but can’t. “It still wasn’t what you wanted.”

He feels, just as much as hears, Stiles heave a sigh. “When I was seven, I wanted to be a smoke jumper. Y’know, those firefighters that parachute down into forest fires? Life doesn’t turn out how you want. We both know that.” He reaches out to tilt Derek’s head up by the chin, and when Derek opens his mouth, Stiles cuts him off. “Don’t you dare apologize. I made it ten years. Ten years without a fatal injury. Considering what we’re up against, that’s got to be some kind of a record.”

The mischievous spark in Stiles’ eyes makes Derek’s lip quirk up; he can’t help it. He can actually feel Stiles’ distinctive mixture of playfulness and righteous indignation, not just see it or smell it. “I couldn’t let you go.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Stiles says, his mouth breaking into a full-on grin. “I reserve the right to freak out about it a little, but I started mentally preparing for this a while ago, just in case. Well, as much as anyone can, I guess. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

They sit quietly for a moment, and Derek imagines Stiles is honing in on his heartbeat, learning the sound of it, how it differs from his own. After a while, he says, “There’s something I’ve always meant to ask you. Real wolf packs, they’re headed by alpha pairs, right?”

It’s Derek’s turn to grin.

&&&

“So you’re both alphas now?” Isaac asks incredulously. “How is that even possible?”

Stiles answers before Derek can. He’s pretty sure that’s going to become a thing now. Okay, no, it was always a thing. “We were mated before. That didn’t change when he turned me. Some packs are led by alpha pairs”

Erica raises her hand, actually raises her hand, and blinks coyly. “So if Daddy won’t let me borrow the car, does that mean that I can ask Mommy to—”

“Nobody borrows the Camaro,” Derek snarls. The 2011 model is in that awkward place between “embarrassing old car” and “vintage,” but Derek’s kept it pristine through a lot of blood, sweat, and yes, occasionally tears, and nobody drives his baby. Unless he’s unconscious, and even then he gets to bitch about it afterward. Perks of being alpha. He has yet to decide whether than now extends to Stiles.

Stiles slaps Derek across the chest with the back of his hand – he’s always done that, but now he doesn’t flinch and try to shake the pain out afterwards. “Chill. Everything stays the same. I’m not going to order you around—”

“More than you already do,” Boyd mutters, and Derek would roll his eyes, but Boyd’s right. They listen to Stiles if Derek is out of commission, and Derek listens to Stiles before he gives orders. Most of the time. He could never control Stiles with his alpha voice like he could the others, but what effect will it have now? What effect will Stiles’ voice have on him?

“It’s going to be a little… strange… at first,” Derek pipes up.

“But mostly it means you don’t get to beat the shit out of me during training,” Stiles says, then turns on Erica. “Don’t think I haven’t been keeping score all this time.”

She scoffs loudly, but Derek has to bite back a laugh. They’re all in for it now.

Including Derek.

Shit.

&&&

Scott takes the news – over Skype, from his new home in Nevada where his wife’s pack lives – with typical Scott dignity. Which is to say, nearly none. Not that Stiles is much better when he’s talking with Scott. They both revert back to flaily teenagerdom, but even though Stiles has matured considerably, it’s still probably good for him to have that outlet. Derek tries not to listen in, but both of them have to know how loud they’re being. Scott cycles through disbelief, confusion, curiosity, and finally, hysterical laughter.

“Derek is shitting bricks, isn’t he?”

“Please,” Stiles snorts. “I was already pretty much an alpha. Now I just have the fangs and the claws to go along with it.”

Derek figures that’s a more or less accurate assessment.

Stiles wants to go tell his dad by himself over dinner, and Derek respects that. At least the Sheriff already knows about the supernatural and, more importantly, knows about Stiles and Derek. It would have been hard to hide it; they were off-and-on for a while, but they’ve been exclusive since Stiles got back from college and officially mated for the past two years. The Sheriff has never been thrilled with Derek – and he gets that, first impressions and all – but he knows how far Derek will go to protect Stiles. Also how far Stiles will go to protect Derek, which may be part of the reason the Sheriff has never quite warmed up to him.

When Stiles comes back late, looking shaken, Derek doesn’t just smell his anxiety; he feels it, a tense buzzing in the back of his head. It makes Derek want to whine in sympathy and bury his face in Stiles’ neck, but he keeps his distance for the moment. “How did it go?” he asks neutrally.

Stiles gives a wan smile. “Uh… surprisingly well, actually. He’s not thrilled, but he’s happy that I’m going to be a lot harder to kill now. Not how he phrased it, but. Yeah. Oh, and he’s kind of pissed at you that I almost died, but he’ll get over it.”

Derek scoffs. “The key word being almost. Did you explain about the manticores? He can’t possibly blame me for the manticores.”

“Of course I told him about the manticores,” Stiles says, walking over and setting trembling hands on Derek’s chest. “And how you had no choice, and that we’d agreed it was okay if we had no other options. He wasn’t mad, not really. But he also wasn’t there. He didn’t see…”

But Derek did. Derek saw Stiles dodge the manticore’s barbed tail a dozen times before it finally caught him right in the chest. Stiles still managed to kill it before the venom paralyzed him, but by the time Derek got to him, Stiles couldn’t even speak. And there was blood, so much blood, fear in Stiles’ eyes like Derek had never seen before and Derek knew. He didn’t hesitate, and while he still feels some lingering guilt, there is nothing in the world that will make him regret saving Stiles’ life with the bite.

Now, though, Stiles looks even more upset than when he walked in the door, and Derek realizes that Stiles is more sensitive to Derek’s moods now. Stiles was always good at reading Derek, but if Derek can actually feel Stiles’ anxiety, it must go both ways. Derek needs to be calm for both of them. He takes a deep breath and settles his hands on Stiles’ hips. “So if your dad wasn’t angry…”

“This is the freak out,” Stiles admits, staring at the floor. “It hit me in the car on the way back home. I heard an ambulance and slammed on the brakes, but the thing had to be miles away. And I know I’ll get used to it, but… this is my life now. There’s no going back.”

There’s nothing Derek can say that Stiles doesn’t already know, and he has so much faith in Stiles, in his ability to adapt and keep moving. Derek won’t pretend to understand how Stiles feels – he knows Stiles sees it as something of a loss while Derek sees only the advantages Stiles has gained – but he can be there if Stiles needs to grieve. “What do you need from me?”

Stiles shakes his head, leaning into Derek’s arms. “Just… hold me, I think. I need a little time.”

“Take as much as you need.”

Stiles loosens his hold enough to start leading Derek up the stairs and toward their bedroom. “Gonna have to find somebody else to pour the mountain ash,” he says, joking weakly.

“Don’t worry about that right now.” Derek strips down to his boxers and pulls back the covers, slipping into his side of the bed. “Don’t worry about anything.”

Stiles sighs, managing to get his shoes and jeans off before practically collapsing. “Don’t worry? I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Okay, badly phrased,” Derek admits, pulling Stiles into his arms and tucking Stiles’ head under his chin. “Focus on me, on my heart and my breathing.”

“Your scent,” Stiles murmurs. “I always wondered about that, what you’d smell like if I were a werewolf.”

“And?” Derek asks, stroking Stiles’ back, trying to project back all the serenity and love Stiles makes him feel.

“You’re right, you can’t really put scents into words. But you smell all earthy and musky and… good. Definitely good. So good.”

“You’ll be able to find me so much easier now, once you get the hang of it. Pick my scent out of a thousand different smells and follow it right to me.” Derek pauses. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, actually.”

Stiles chuckles softly. “Please. You haven’t been able to hide from me in years.”

“Haven’t wanted to.”

Stiles squeezes him and Derek can smell the salt of tears, but Stiles just says, “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you. For saving my life. So… thank you.”

They’ve saved each other’s lives so many times, but Derek can’t remember either of them ever saying thank you. Their actions always felt so necessary, even when they could barely stand each other, that it didn’t warrant mere words. But this is different in ways they’re both going to have to get used to, different in that Stiles may never feel able to pay Derek back in quite the same way. If they talk about it later, if Stiles feels guilty, Derek will thank him for saving Derek’s life even when he didn’t even know it. For spending years slowly pulling Derek back from the edge. For still saving Derek every day.

But talking is for later. Now, Derek just holds Stiles, letting him rest and process all that’s gone on in the past 24 hours. “You’re welcome,” he whispers, kissing the top of Stiles’ head.

&&&

It’s hard for Derek not to feel like his entire world’s been turned upside down when he wakes up in bed alone. Because Stiles is awake and out of bed. Before Derek.

This is unprecedented.

Stiles does freelance computer stuff that Derek doesn’t even pretend to understand, so he can set his own schedule, which usually means Derek has most of the morning to himself. It’s barely dawn, and even Derek would probably lounge around in bed for another fifteen minutes or so, but he smells the heavenly aroma of coffee downstairs – again, unprecedented, because Derek’s the one who gets up to make the coffee. He stumbles downstairs to find Stiles frowning angrily at the S.H.I.E.L.D. mug Derek got him for his birthday years ago.

He doesn’t even look up. “Derek. I’m awake.”

“I did notice that, yes.”

“But why am I awake?” Derek opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, he gets cut off. “And don’t tell me it’s a werewolf thing, because I’ve seen Scott remain blissfully unconscious until well past noon.”

Derek shrugs. “I think it’s an alpha thing. You’re still getting used to your new senses – the same thing happened to me. You can probably get used to it and start sleeping in, but I kind of like it. I don’t usually get up this early, though.”

“If I’m going to be a creature of the night, I need sleep, Derek.”

“Not as much. Especially as an alpha.”

Stiles’ frown turns thoughtful. “Really?” Derek nods. “I’m not sure whether to be happy or pissed off.”

“You’ve got plenty of time to decide,” Derek says, dropping a kiss on Stiles’ head on the way to the refrigerator. “At least now we can eat breakfast together.”

“We always eat breakfast together, it’s just second breakfast for you.”

“Your point?” Derek asks, pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge.

“My point is we’re going to need a hell of a lot more food. I could eat a dozen small woodland creatures. Or maybe two medium-to-large-sized woodland creatures.”

Derek has never eaten a woodland creature of any size in his life and Stiles knows this, so Derek just good-naturedly flips him off and bends over to get a saucepan.

When he stands back up, he finds Stiles staring at his boxer-clad ass, a slightly manic grin beginning to curl at the corners of his mouth. “No, no, this is a good thing. This is such a good thing.”

“Should I even ask?”

“Derek, now we can have so much morning sex.”

&&&

They don’t, though. Not this morning. Stiles has so many questions for Derek, most of which Derek has to answer by making Stiles use his new senses. Derek had a hard enough time transitioning from beta to alpha – he can’t imagine going from human to alpha werewolf all at once, but if anyone can manage it, it’s Stiles.

That much is clear when the rest of the pack gets there, eager to test out their new alpha’s mettle. Derek limits Stiles to defensive maneuvers, since he could potentially do a great deal of damage to the betas while he’s learning control. But he’s sparred with each of them before, and he knows their moves already. There’s a learning curve – he’s never actually had them come at him with anything near full strength before – and he gets knocked down more than once.

It’s more of an instinct than Derek realized, the urge to barrel into the fight when it looks like Stiles is getting hurt, even though Derek knows he’s not in danger. Stiles pops back up to his feet every time, albeit looking a little surprised at how easy it is now, and soon the betas stop holding back.

Derek can already see Stiles developing a fighting style. He doesn’t have Isaac’s speed or Erica’s ferocity or Boyd’s brute strength, but he seems to be able to see three moves ahead. It might be because he’s had years to study them all, but they’re smart, too. They change things up and Stiles adapts just as quickly. He just needs to stop cringing every time he does something right.

“Sorry!” he yelps after the third time he flings Boyd into a tree. Isaac and Erica look at each other and laugh, but at least they don’t glare at Derek. He still hates to think about those early days, about breaking Isaac’s arm and using Erica’s newfound sexual confidence as a weapon. He has the immediate thought that Stiles is already a better alpha than Derek ever was, even though he knows Stiles would smack him upside the back of the head for thinking it. Derek has gotten better at letting go of the guilt, but it’s still his first response to new situations.

Eventually, it takes all three betas at once to pin Stiles, who still nearly wriggles away. “Hey Derek,” Isaac says. “A little help here?”

Derek briefly wonders if Isaac picked up on his mood and is trying to help him shake it, but either way, he’s glad for the invitation. Derek whips off his shirt and Erica rolls her eyes with a groan, but he’s not doing it for her. Stiles needs to be able to fight in the presence of distractions… and, okay, Derek wants to show off for him a little. Up close, for once.

Stiles slips out of the betas’ grip and gets to his feet, gulping loudly when he gets an eyeful of Derek. “Oh shit,” he mutters. “Can we agree that throats are off limits?”

“Let’s see how you do against another alpha,” Derek growls, letting his fangs drop as he shifts.

Stiles can’t help but shift in response, and it’s truly bizarre, seeing Stiles with the sideburns and the thick brow ridge. But the red eyes don’t throw Derek at all. He knows he won’t hurt Stiles – his wolf is howling matematemate – and he’s pretty sure Stiles knows it, too. Despite his initial burst of fear, he’s smirking now, giving Derek a look that can’t be mistaken for anything but a challenge.

So Derek charges, feinting left just before veering right. Even though Stiles sees it, he’s not quite quick enough to dodge, but he is able to pull Derek down into the dirt with him. Derek rolls off, back up on his feet, but by the time he turns around, so is Stiles. Derek charges again, but this time Stiles jumps straight up, grabbing on to a tree branch just long enough to let Derek go under him, then swing down to land with his feet square on Derek’s back.

It would have been plenty to take Derek down if he were a beta, but all it does is make him stumble. Still, if this were a real fight, Stiles would’ve had time to get a good, hard swipe at the back of Derek’s neck. But even though their claws are out, neither of them is trying to draw blood. It’s more wrestling than fighting, really, testing each other’s balance and agility. They’re playing, Derek realizes, scuffling like cubs, and Derek hasn’t done this since before…

But he doesn’t have time to think it, not if he’s going to flip Stiles onto his stomach in the dirt and pin him so he can’t squirm away. He tries hard, though, and it’s mostly Derek’s raw strength that’s keeping Stiles down. Stiles will probably never be as physically strong as Derek, isn’t built to carry the muscle mass Derek has, but Derek has the feeling that they’ll be pretty evenly matched before long.

Stiles bucks under him, nearly breaking Derek’s hold on his wrists, and growls, but Derek holds him firm with a forearm across his shoulders. Somewhere off to the side, he hears Isaac groan, “Get a room.”

Fuck, Derek would love nothing more than to throw Stiles over his shoulder and drag him off, caveman-style, but there’ll be time for that later.

Instead, he releases Stiles and pops up to his feet. Stiles does the same, looking curiously at Derek, body tensed for whatever’s coming next.

Derek nods towards the woods. “You get a thirty-second head start before we come after you.”

Stiles laughs. “I only need ten.”

&&&

The betas head out when the sun starts to go down, sore from a long day of training but happy. As much as they’re grumbling about having two alphas to toss them around now, Derek gets the sense that they like it. That there’s more balance to their small pack now. And that they enjoy testing themselves against Stiles.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says afterward, only a little out of breath from the final run. “That was fucking insane. And now I totally get why you guys do the flippy thing all the time.”

Derek tries to hide the pride swelling in his chest – Stiles was always a fighter, devious and resourceful, but soon he’s going to be nearly unstoppable, and his ego’s going to be unstoppable once he figures that out. Derek only means to reward Stiles with a quick kiss, but Stiles is running high on adrenaline and he turns them both to slam Derek up against a wall.

It’s not a hard hit, but it comes as such a shock that it knocks the breath out of Derek’s lungs for just a second. Stiles smirks, eyes flashing red, and leans in, breathing hot across Derek’s open mouth. “How do you like that, sourwolf?”

There’s a name Derek hasn’t heard in years, and it takes him spinning back through the years of their relationship. After Derek became an alpha, he never overpowered Stiles physically unless Stiles was in danger (or, later, unless Stiles wanted him to), and he assumes Stiles will extend him the same courtesy. But that’s what it’ll be: a courtesy. Even if Derek maintains a slight advantage by virtue of being a born wolf, but he’s lost a lot of physical power over Stiles – and that was the only kind of power he had when it came to Stiles. Not that their relationship’s built on power, but… it still gives Derek pause.

Stiles sees it – or possible hears it or smells it, now – and backs up a bit, eyes softening. “Too much?”

Already more courtesy than Derek gave Stiles for years. It loosens something in Derek’s chest, makes him think about the things Stiles can do now that he couldn’t before… and the things Derek can do to him. Derek’s always had to hold back, and while it was always worth it, the prospect of letting loose is intoxicating.

“Just enough,” Derek purrs. Stiles grins and kisses him hard enough to knock Derek’s head back into the wall, and the slight burst of pain is quickly lost in the frenzy. Derek supposes he’s got a few more head knocks coming before the scorecard is even.

Derek doesn’t let Stiles drag him to the bedroom easily; he pushes back, makes Stiles use more and more of his strength to take what he wants. And Stiles is getting off on it like crazy, if the growing smell of arousal is any indication. Not that Stiles isn’t used to taking the lead in the bedroom, but now he can smell just how much Derek likes it, hear it in the skip of his heart whenever Stiles forces him to take another step. Do you understand now? Derek thinks. The things you do to me?

By the time they’re on the bed, Derek’s shirt is in actual shreds, and while they’re going to need to work on that later, for now, it’s hot as fuck. “I can get you naked faster now,” Stiles sing-songs, and Derek can feel the point of a fang graze his earlobe.

It might be legitimately dangerous to test Stiles’ control like this so soon; sparring was one thing, but now both of their defenses are down. But Derek isn’t afraid of pain, and he was a beta for the first 22 years of his life. He doesn’t have to fight his instincts in order to bare his throat.

Submitting to Stiles as a human was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, but submitting to Stiles as an alpha satisfies something in the very marrow of his animal bones. It should be the same for Stiles, when their positions are reversed. Derek would never have given him the bite if he hadn’t been an inch from death, and he may always feel a twinge of guilt, but his wolf howls this is it, this is how it was always meant to be.

“How do you want me?” Derek breathes, letting the tips of his claws out and raking them slowly down Stiles’ sides. For the first time, he purposefully draws blood, and Stiles immediately pins him down by the shoulders and growls, an entirely animal sound that even fighting didn’t draw out of him.

The cuts heal almost immediately, but Stiles’ eyes stay red. “You don’t need to try to provoke me,” he says, his voice a rumbling snarl that cuts Derek down to the bone.

“Maybe I want to,” Derek snaps back, and Stiles all but attacks him with his mouth.

When Stiles eases up, Derek grabs the lube from the nightstand and quickly preps himself. He can tell by the curl of Stiles’ lip that Stiles wants to be the one with his fingers buried in Derek, stretching him open, but they both know Stiles’ tenuous control over his claws could put a stop to this immediately. So Stiles settles for latching his mouth on to Derek’s neck, sucking hard. It’s almost too much for Derek to take.

When Derek is fucking himself on three fingers, Stiles licks his way up to Derek’s ear. “On your stomach. That okay?”

He hasn’t asked for reassurance in bed in a while, and even though he knows what the answer’s going to be, he’s still giving Derek back some measure of control. Warmth blooms through Derek’s whole body as Stiles pants in his ear, his cock dripping precum on Derek’s stomach – he won’t do anything until he knows Derek wants it.

Derek bends his head to smell the sweat on Stiles’ skin – the scent is different now, still unmistakably Stiles but with something wild and animal thrown into the mix. He hadn’t thought it possible to want Stiles more, but his wolf howls for its mate, not to take but to be taken.

Derek kisses Stiles quickly but deeply, leaving no room for doubt as he rolls over onto his stomach and pulls one knee up, opening himself to Stiles in no uncertain terms. “Oh my god, Derek,” he hears in a harsh whisper behind him. It’s not like Stiles has never seen him like this before, but Stiles’ new wolf has never been presented with such complete submission and Derek smiles into his folded arms, because it’s got to be making Stiles crazy.

Still, he’s not quite expecting it when Stiles pushes three fingers in and hooks them just right, unrelenting pressure on Derek’s sweet spot making him cry out, his cock curved up to his belly and leaking a little more with each push of Stiles’ fingers. Maybe he should be worried about Stiles’ control right now, but he’s really not. His need is heightened to a level he’s never felt before, and it must be the new strength of the bond between them. He’s totally unprepared for it, and he feels like a teenager ready to go off at the slightest touch again. “S-Stiles, if you want this to last more than a few seconds—“

“Shh,” Stiles whispers, but it’s a little shaky. “I’ve got you.” He eases up on Derek’s prostate, but keeps pumping three fingers into him, and the fullness is so, so good, but it’s not enough.

Derek can feel the bed shifting behind him as Stiles rises to his knees, getting himself in position and pulling Derek’s hips up, too. “Guess I get to see if that ‘werewolf stamina’ is a real thing or if it’s just you.”

Derek groans loudly, because in the years they’ve been together, Stiles has built an improbable level of stamina just to keep up with Derek. God only knows what he’ll be capable of now.

Stiles holds Derek tightly by the hips and slides home in one long, agonizingly slow push, Derek’s body more receptive than it’s ever been. Stiles must feel it, too, that ache that’s more than his own, because his voice catches on Derek’s name as he stays buried to the hilt, draped over Derek’s back.

The burn subsides quickly, and then Derek needs friction, needs to feel Stiles thrusting deep into him until he can’t remember where he ends and Stiles begins. “Stiles, move,” Derek growls with all the authority he can muster.

Stiles’ answering growl has Derek shuddering even before Stiles sits back on his heels and starts up a steady, merciless pace that has the entire bed rocking. It’s familiar – good, but a little too familiar. Too human. “You’re holding back,” Derek grunts, pushing back against Stiles’ thrusts the best he can in this position. “Don’t.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Stiles gasps, shoving in deep and holding.

The idea that Stiles could hurt him is a lot less laughable now than it was a few days ago, but they both need this, to find out how they fit together now. “You won’t,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles uncurls until he’s stretched out over Derek’s back and presses a hot, sucking kiss to the back of Derek’s neck. “I love the hell out of you,” he whispers. “Nothing can change that.”

Then he immediately sets about fucking Derek into oblivion.

Stiles’ fingers wrapped tightly around his hips and Stiles’ cock pounding hard into him are painful, but the pleasure of being taken so forcefully and confidently by his mate overrides everything else and Derek bites back on a whine. He has to brace his arms against the headboard, which is already making small cracking sounds on Stiles’ every thrust. They’re really going to have to get an upgrade on the bed.

“Okay, Derek,” Stiles says, breathless but not pausing. “I let go. Now you.”

He presses a hand between Derek’s shoulder blades, fingers spreading wide across the tattoo, and finds the angle that makes Derek wail. Normally, Stiles can only hold this position for a few minutes at a time before his legs start to tremble, but now he could fuck Derek for hours like this if he wanted to, and the very thought of it makes Derek moan, his cock hanging heavy and aching for touch.

Derek’s so lost in it that it takes him a few moments to realize that Stiles’ thrusts have shortened, slowed down a little. It takes a harder push to get their hips flush and a stronger pull to get them apart. All at once Stiles freezes, nothing but the tip of his cock still inside Derek, and when Derek cranes his head up, Stiles is staring down, his mouth open.

“Am I– fuck, Derek, do I have a knot?”

Derek knows bitten alphas do, but his doesn’t come out all the time. He can usually control it, unless the right combination of need, possessiveness, and phase of the moon align, but still, he only knots Stiles when he asks for it. “Touch the base of your cock,” Derek says, trying and failing to keep his voice even. “Is it sensitive?”

Stiles wraps a hand around himself and immediately shudders. “Holy god.”

So that would be a yes. Derek doesn’t even has to think about what he says next. “Do it.”

Stiles’ mouth falls open. “You want me to—”

“Fucking tie me with it, yeah.”

“But you’ve never… And I’ve sure as hell never…”

“Don’t care. I need it.” Derek’s voice drops almost an octave. “You do, too.”

Stiles nods, never breaking eye contact, and Derek wishes he could watch Stiles’ face as they do this, but Stiles has always been much more comfortable on his stomach when Derek has knotted him before. So Derek drops back into his original position, one knee tucked to his chest. “Do it before it swells up too much.”

Even with his fingers holding Derek as far apart as possible, it takes Stiles a few careful thrusts to work the knot in, and Derek can hear Stiles’ heartbeat skyrocket every time the hypersensitive bulge meets the stretched rim of Derek’s hole. He’s prepared for the pain – Stiles has told him it’s intense, but not unbearable – but when Stiles is finally in, their bodies locking together, Derek is completely blindsided by the fullness, the growing pressure of Stiles making room for himself in Derek’s body. It’s so overwhelming he can’t move, can’t make a sound. This is Stiles staking pure, animal claim over everything Derek is, something so far beyond the physicality of it that Derek is sure even Stiles doesn’t have words for it.

Stiles has fallen forward on his hands, breath coming out in panting sobs against the back of Derek’s neck as he tries to thrust but can’t. Instead, he has to make tight circles with his hips, pressing against places inside Derek he never even knew existed, but even that comes to a halt when Stiles’ knot is at its full size. It feels huge inside Derek; it hurts, yes, but it also feels like something vital he never knew he was missing until just now.

All Stiles can do now is grind against Derek, and when he hits the right spot at the same time that his teeth clamp down on the back of Derek’s neck, Derek comes in a white-hot rush of agonizing pleasure, his untouched cock spurting hard all over the sheets. But Stiles has got him held fast from neck to hips, so all he can do is jerk helplessly in the warm cage of Stiles’ embrace. I’ve got you, he hears, even though Stiles isn’t saying it.

Stiles starts to come just as Derek gives a final hard shudder, and he releases Derek’s neck to throw his head back and howl. Derek has never felt so proud, so desperately in love than at that moment. He belongs to Stiles. He always has, but his wolf is more sated, more at ease now than it’s ever been.

Stiles is still coming when his arms give out and he collapses onto Derek’s back. Derek shakes a little with laughter, and he’s got just enough strength to stretch out his leg and lower them both to the bed so Stiles can sprawl on top of him and just enjoy it. Stiles moans Derek’s name like a prayer, mouthing loosely at his shoulder as his body pumps more and more of his seed into Derek. He thinks Stiles passes out when he’s done.

&&&

Derek stops trying to count the minutes they’ve been locked together. When Stiles regained consciousness, they began the delicate and hilariously awkward process of trying to lie spooned together on their sides. Derek’s used to being able to do it as the big spoon, easily maneuvering Stiles’ lighter body against his own. But Stiles is obviously new to this, so it takes some actual verbal coordination and more than a few painful tugs before they’re comfortable.

But once they are, Derek is back in that warm, sated place in his mind that he’s pretty sure he shares with Stiles now. Stiles is wrapped around him like an octopus, and god knows that’s never been an uncommon occurrence, but he’s still filling up Derek from the inside.

“I know I said it before, but you smell so fucking good,” Stiles whispers against his skin. “If I smell half as good to you, no wonder you keep stealing my t-shirts.”

Derek goes unnaturally still. He didn’t think Stiles knew about that.

“Wow, so that’s what embarrassment smells like,” Stiles says with a chuckle. “You didn’t think I’d notice you kept stretching them out?”

“Um, no?” Derek says weakly.

“Dude, it’s fine. I thought it was sexy even when I couldn’t smell you on them. Mi shirts es su shirts. I might even start stealing some of your Henleys.”

Derek snorts. “If you jerk off on one of my shirts, wash it.”

“It’s like you read my mind!” Stiles says. Then he pauses, and Derek can practically hear the wheels turning. “No, really, it’s like you read my mind. And there’s this… feeling. In the back of my head. This really mellow feeling that doesn’t seem like it’s coming from me.”

Derek is willing to be it complements the humming affection in the back of his own mind. “I think it’s the alpha mating bond.”

Another pause. “You mean we weren’t really mated before?”

“No, we were, or you wouldn’t have become an alpha. But because you weren’t a werewolf, the full bond couldn’t take effect. And I can’t read your mind, I’ve just known you for more than a week. It’s only a matter of time until you’re going to jerk off into one of my shirts. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done it before, actually.”

Stiles slaps Derek’s thigh weakly. “Moron. So what does this bond do?”

“I don’t know all of it.” He never asked his parents; he figured he’d wait until the time came. “We can sense each other’s strong emotions. I think I’ll know if you’re in pain and vice versa, but I don’t think it’s incapacitating. It’s supposed to help us keep each other safe.” And happy, Derek doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to.

Stiles idly traces patterns on the skin of Derek’s stomach for a few minutes before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? About the full bond?”

Derek sighs; he knew that question was coming. “I didn’t want to… to feel like I was pressuring you. I wanted it to be your choice. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry that it wasn’t up to you,” he whispers.

“It was my choice,” Stiles says firmly, squeezing Derek tight in his arms, “even though I made it long beforehand. And I’m… I’m still not sure it’s sunk in completely, but I can’t be mad at you – or myself – if this means I get to be with you. And my dad, and Scott. Our betas. I don’t think knowing about the alpha bond would’ve made me ask for the bite, but like you said, you know me. And you know I want as much information as possible up front.”

Derek knows; he just never learns. Or rather, he learns slowly. It’s so hard to override his protective instincts towards the people he loves, even now with Stiles being an alpha, but he thinks it’ll get better once it sinks in for him. He’s trusted Stiles for a long time now to have his back in a fight, but maybe this will calm his wolf, take the phrase “overprotective alpha bastard” out of Stiles’ vocabulary. Or maybe Derek will get to direct it at Stiles, who knows.

Stiles shifts on the bed to kiss Derek’s shoulder, and it jostles the knot inside him just enough to press on some nerves that make his spent cock twitch. “You really like this, don’t you?” Stiles says, his voice full of quiet amazement. “Being knotted?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course,” Stiles laughs. “But I didn’t know if you would, with your whole… thing.”

Something occurs to Derek suddenly. “You haven’t said it yet.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t! Can I say it now? I don’t want to kill the mood.”

Derek heaves a put-upon sigh, even though he knows Stiles can hear his heartbeat kick up. “Just get it over with.”

Stiles gets his lips right behind Derek’s ear, and what comes out is a growled whisper that has Derek quivering. “I’m the alpha now.”

Nope, definitely not killing the mood.

&&&

Two weeks later, the pack gathers in front of the house as the sun begins to go down. Stiles is actually bouncing up and down on his toes, the pull of the moon cranking his natural energy up to levels Derek hasn’t seen in him since high school. At the same time, he’s not frantic or the least bit out of control. Derek doesn’t know if it’s Stiles’ preparedness, the presence of a stable pack, or even Derek himself, but the last thing he has to worry about from Stiles tonight is unrestrained bloodlust.

If the betas are thinking back to their disastrous first full moon, they’re not showing it. They look excited to run with their new alpha, and truthfully, Derek is, too. No, excited doesn’t quite cover it – his wolf is panting with anticipation, ready for its first real run with its mate. They’ve run through the woods together before, but it’s different on a full moon; it’s wilder, more primal. The pack feels like one being moving smoothly across the leafy ground, parting like water around the trees before merging again.

Derek realizes Stiles is looking at him, specifically at his naked chest. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Stiles says, “but is the shirtless thing mandatory?”

Erica rolls her eyes. “No, that’s just Derek. Your clothes are gonna get pretty torn up, though.”

“See?” Derek says defensively. “I’ve ruined enough shirts for one lifetime.” Everybody – even Stiles now – can tell he’s lying, but so what? He just likes it, likes to feel the air on his skin. And he never tires of the way Stiles looks at him, still after all this time like he’s trying not to publicly ogle Derek and failing. “I’d lose the shoes, though,” he advises Stiles. “They’re not really compatible with toe claws.”

When Stiles goes to unlace his shoes and puts a hand on Derek for “balance” – Stiles still hasn’t shaken most of the human habits that aren’t necessary now – Derek feels an electric jolt run through his body. It’s not even sexual; it’s deeper than that, and the compulsion to shift is getting harder to ignore.

The moon is clearly visible now, and Stiles gestures toward the woods, his claws already emerging. “Shall we?”

Derek means to wait until Stiles is fully shifted, but his body begins to change on its own. It’s a little frightening, but only for a split second, because Derek’s anchor is right beside him. He grabs on to it in his mind, to the bond he has with Stiles, and this time, the bond grabs him back, and his shift doesn’t stop at fangs and claws.

He knows Laura could do this, knows it’s a family trait, but he never thought he’d be able to do it himself. Too much emotional baggage, maybe, or some secret Laura and his mother never told him. He hasn’t tried in years, tired of the disappointment, but he’s not even trying now and it’s happening. The fur that sprouts from his skin feels like his real body is bursting free, and he’d always thought the twist and crack of his bones would hurt, but it doesn’t.

He kicks his jeans away with huge hind paws and looks up to find Stiles gaping at him. “D-Derek?” There’s no hint of fear in his scent.

Derek’s thoughts are different like this, less verbal, but he resists the urge to bury his nose between his mate’s legs where his scent is strongest. He’d have to bend down a little to do it, anyway, because he’s level with Stiles’ waist. Instead, he nuzzles into Stiles’ outstretched hand. He doesn’t have the vocal cords to say It’s me, I’m here but of course Stiles knows. They all do.

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispers, his shift receded for the moment as he runs his hand through the thick fur at the scruff of Derek’s neck. “You’re beautiful like this.”

The betas have come closer, too, but Derek doesn’t want to be stared at, to be petted. He wants to run, so he tosses his head in the direction of the woods and lets out a long, joyous howl. The betas join him, but it’s not until Stiles does too that Derek breaks towards the woods.

He doesn’t turn around to see that the others are at his heels; he doesn’t need to. After a second, he can feel Stiles trying to keep pace with him. He could outrun Stiles easily now – could outrun any of them – but he finds his wolf doesn’t want to. It wants Stiles nudging into his side, teeth snapping playfully as they race deeper into the night.