So, it has officially been two weeks since Stiles kissed Derek. Yep, you've heard right. Derek. As in Derek Hale, the big bad alpha who acts all grumpy and sourwolf-ish 24/7. And Stiles kissed him. Well, technically Derek kissed him. Yep, another shocker. They just keep popping up, right?

Stiles hadn't seen it coming. It had been quite a surprise, to be honest. Because really? Derek Hale does notact nice, let alone kiss anyone, especially him. As far Stiles thought he knew, he drove the alpha insane. Once it had led to the point of him nearly being strangled to death and pressed up against the wall, and on other days he was scared the shit out of with the normal do this or stop that response which was usually followed by the common threat of or I'm going to rip you throat out, with my teeth.

Yep, that one will never get old.

So seriously, being kissed by the alpha is a wake-up call for Stiles. He has no idea what kind of wake-up call it is meant to be, but it's been one all the same. It has been so, so hard looking Derek in the eye at pack meetings, and he tends to try and get out of them as much as he possibly can. In fact, there is a meeting on this afternoon and Stiles is going to make it perfectly clear that he is not going to be there.


He and Scott are walking down the corridors at school, heading to lacrosse practice. It's the perfect time to tell his best buddy that he isn't attending the pack meeting today. Not. And of course, Scott doesn't like it. Not one bit.

Scott just looks at him like he's disappointed and ashamed. "Stiles, you're pack. Pack sticks together. That means attending pack meetings, too. Don't knock back the pack code, dude," he says miserably.

"Oh yeah, it's not like you don't skip out on us sometimes too. If I recall, you and Allison seemed to have much better things to do last meeting," Stiles snaps back harshly.

This leads to Scott starting him on a long speech of how he and Allison aren't meant to be seeing each other since the Gerard incident and that last pack meeting had been the only day he and her could hang out without her dad knowing and getting suspicious.

Stiles just rolls his eyes. "He's probably starting to suspect you guys aren't just studying," he snickers, earning himself a smack to the back of the head from Scott. "Ow! Not cool, dude."

In the end, Scott wins. Of course he does. Stiles ends up driving him and Scott to the stupid pack meeting in his Jeep. He whines the entire way, threatening that he'll drop Scott off then turn around and go home, but of course Scott talks him into staying as well when they arrive.

Freaking, stupid werewolf.

He parks his Jeep in front of the Hale house, shooting Scott a withering glare that is returned with a smug smirk, before hopping out and locking the doors, slipping the keys in his jacket pocket. They walk up to the door and Stiles knocks once or twice before the door is opened and they are invited in by Isaac, who shockingly seems to be really happy today.

"Hey, buddy, how's it going?" he greets. Isaac smiles, returning the greeting rather exuberantly before pulling them into the living room where the rest of the pack is sitting on the floor. Stiles's eyes land on Derek almost immediately, and he quickly looks away when the alpha's hazel eyes turn to him, steely as always.

"I thought you weren't coming today," Derek says, voice levelled.

Stiles nudges Scott in the side harshly, causing the other teen to yelp. "I wasn't. This fur ball talked me into it," he says simply, shrugging.

"Fur ball, that's a good one," Jackson laughs. Derek shoot him a threatening look and he immediately shuts up, attention focusing, once again, on Lydia who is sitting on his lap.

"Could you not act like a child for one minute," Derek growls.

Jackson looks up from Lydia, fixing the alpha with a glare. "Depends. If you're going to stop acting like my dad," he counters.

Derek snarls, eyes flashing red. "I'm not your dad. I'm your alpha, and you will obey me." Almost immediately, Jackson knows to quickly apologise, mumbling a half-hearted sorry and looking down at the ground.

"Okay, enough with all of this crap. We have a pack meeting to start." Boyd is the one who speaks up this time, growling at Jackson. Erica, who is cuddled up to him, smiles and plants a small kiss on his cheek.

Jackson scowls, muttering something quite rude under his breath, but Lydia elbows him. "Seriously Jackson, stop it. Stop being so immature," she snaps. Jackson huffs, but listens. "That's a good boy," she praises sweetly.

Everyone—excluding Derek and Boyd, of course—laughs. Stiles and Scott take a seat on the floor with the others alongside Isaac, all of them beginning to listen as Derek talks about pack business. Lydia begins to nuzzle her head into Jackson's neck halfway through the speech and Derek has to shoot her a look since the actions make Jackson start purring loud enough that his voice is overtaken. This results in Jackson and Lydia looking embarrassed while most of the pack laughs once again, Derek just rolling his eyes before continuing.

At the end of the meeting the pack all split up, each heading off home or wherever else they need to be. The only ones left now are him, Scott and Derek.

Stiles fidgets uncomfortably, trying not to make it look obvious as they just sit there. Soon the silence is broken by Scott saying something about getting his mum dinner before he heads off too. Now, that leaves only him and Derek.

He is beginning to feel the tension in the air. It only gets worse when Derek turns to him and that is when he remembers why he hadn't wanted to come to the pack meeting in the first place. The alpha's hazel irises are overpowering, and Stiles knows that if he doesn't leave soon he will probably piss his pants right here and now. Or something worse.

"Well everyone's off doing their own thing now, so I guess that's my queue to tuck and roll." Stiles gives a short salute before standing. Almost immediately has he stood up, a hand grabs his wrist, pulling him back down onto the floor rather harshly. Ouch, his butt hurts now. "Dude, what the hell?" He tries tugging his arm away, though the alpha seems to have a tight latch to it and won't let it go.

"Why didn't you want to come today?" Derek growls. His hazel eyes are intense and Stiles has to gulp before being able to reply, otherwise he would probably have whimpered, and boy does he not want to be doing that again.

"I was busy. I do have a life, you know," he snaps. A low growl rumbles in Derek's throat and yep, Stiles is pretty sure he won't be getting out alive this time. He searches for a good excuse. "Look, I had homework to do. Okay? I have a biology test coming up, and not to mention a maths semester exam to study for. I have no time for your stupid little pack meetings."

Derek lightens his grip a little, eyes softening a tad before he nods, releasing the grip on Stiles's arm altogether. "I understand," he replies firmly.

Stiles lets out a breath he never knew he was holding, his shoulders sagging in relief, thankful that he isn't going to become wolf chow. "Great… so yeah. I better be off to start studying then," he exclaims. No, it's never going to be that easy to escape. Is it?

Stiles is well aware of that because before he can stand up again, he has the heavy weight of an alpha on top of him and a nose pressed into the side of his neck, taking long whiffs. "Uh, dude, what are you doing?" He can't help but be freaked out about this. Seriously, being kissed and now this? "Because I don't think I smell that nice. Unless I do. Do I smell nice?" Yeah, really smooth Stiles.

Derek's nose presses down rather hard between the crook of his neck and the bottom of his chin, hard enough that Stiles swears that the alpha could suffocate if that were possible. Still, it seems to not faze Derek at all for Stiles is sure he feels a soft swipe of a tongue along the pulse point in his neck, the whiffing turning to snuffles.

"Okay, um, I think you should get off now. I don't think that this is—ah!" Stiles's speech is cut off momentarily by the sharp jut of the alpha's hip bones as Derek presses his body down roughly against Stiles's and rolls his hips up into the teen's. Stiles maintains his breathing, though just barely, as he tries to hold back the moan caught in his throat that is trying its damn well hardest to escape.

Stiles isn't sure when, but before he knows it, the nose nuzzled into his neck is running up his jawline, then making a trail down to his collarbone. Next minute, there's the sound of a zipper opening and then the touch of a hand slipping under the collar of his jacket and meeting the flushed skin of his chest. So, that was what the zipper noise was from? His mind is quickly drawn away from that conclusion when the hand on his chest skims down, running along his side until he can feel it tugging at the bottom of his shirt. Tugging. To try and take his shirt off. Holy shit!

"D-Derek, stop!" He manages to wrestle his arms out from underneath him, grabbing the alpha's hand that has tugged his shirt up halfway, enough that more than an inch of bare skin can be seen. Derek ignores him, pulling at the shirt until it is over Stiles's head and Stiles has to lift his head up so he won't be smothered by the material.

When the shirt is over his head and chucked somewhere to the side, Stiles can finally see Derek's face. His hazel eyes are tinged red, switching between his natural eye colour and that of the alpha's, making Stiles's mind come to a mental blank.

"Look, it's clearly obvious that your wolf is out of control right now. Maybe you should g-get o-off." The last words come out breathier than he would have liked them to. Well, it isn't his fault his speech is incoherent when an alpha is rubbing off on him, erection prodding him in the hip.

"Stiles," Derek growls, voice rumbling awfully low and sending vibrations through Stiles's chest. This is so not good. Not good at all. The look in the alpha's eyes is only of one thing and Stiles, being a hormone-raging teenager in early high school, knows exactly what it means.

This big bad wolf is super horny.

"Okay, Derek, you may want to calm down. I—I'm not sure you should be—ah, f-fuck!" Stiles is slowly getting to the point where he wants this suffering to end. The continuous grinds of the alpha's hips are not helping his throbbing cock, which he is pretty sure, right now, is way too hard to be called a causal stiffy.

Derek doesn't listen—not a shocker, really—and instead decides to lean down close, enough so that Stiles can see his bright ruby red eyes, before the alpha's lips meet his. He doesn't know why this is happening. Since when does Derek freaking Hale kiss him? Twice!

At first, he tries to push Derek away, hands furiously hitting at the alpha's lean chest, but to no avail. In two ways, more than one. The first one is, of course, Derek's strength. Stiles knows he won't be able to push the alpha off easily. That guy is as tough as a rock and bigger than a truck. Secondly, it is the kiss. The kiss feels more than overpowering. The swift, rough swipes of the alpha's tongue along his bottom lip is enough for him to just give into this sweet torture, opening freely and giving full, permitted access. When the access is granted, oh holy hell!

Almost immediately the heated fire burning in the pit of his stomach ignites, setting his whole body's senses alight. Derek's tongue traces the outline of his own, before diving down to the back of his throat and running along the roof of his mouth all the way up, then again as it comes crashing down to rub against his own. Soon Stiles is out of breath and has no choice but to pull away, panting heavily, rich caramel eyes glazed over and mouth still lingering of the taste of the alpha. Derek is no better. His eyes are now back to their original hazel, though they are both glossy, shimmering almost like sunlight has been cast down on them.

"Uhhhh… Wow." Stiles is at a loss for words, just staring up at Derek like he is the most important person in the world. Ha, ha. Right now, it sure as hell feels like he is… Well, at least that's what his dick is telling him.

Derek's gaze never faults. He rumbles low in his throat, eyes flicking down to Stiles's jeans, and almost immediately Stiles knows that this isn't even close to being over.

"Derek, look, I don't think we should… do this. Y-You're not in the right frame of mind, dude," he stammers. The words, of course, go unheard, and Stiles sucks in a breath when the alpha's hands move down to his jeans and begin to undo the zipper. Yep, this is so not good. "Derek, don't do this. You don't know what you're doing. Do you even realise who you're stripping here? It's Stiles! Annoying, chatterbox, won't-shut-the hell-up Stiles! You hate me! Remember?" he babbles.

Derek growls, low and fierce, eyes flashing red as he pushes his face into the crook of Stiles's neck, sniffing the skin. "Stiles. Don't hate you," he purrs. Wait, hold the phone. He purrs? Stiles cranes his neck, having no choice, and lets the alpha sniff more thoroughly if anything. He suddenly yelps, the pain in his neck stinging as he feels the prick of fangs, then the fangs sinking down into his flesh.

"W-What the hell are you doing? Ow. Fuck. That hurts!" he yells, hitting Derek on the arm (pretty hard might he add). The reaction is not what Stiles expects. A whimper, then a tongue running along the bite, licking at it like the alpha's trying to cleanse it. The pain soon vanishes and Stiles is left with the alpha licking him, skin soon becoming moist and wet with wolf slobber. Eh. Ha. Saliva.

When the licking stops Stiles is thankful, finally having a chance to breathe normally. It's short lived. As soon as Derek is done licking, he starts to pull his shirt off, chucking it to the side so both of them are now, indeed, shirtless. Stiles suddenly feels like he can't breathe again, looking at the alpha's flat, toned and muscled chest. Yep, and the heavy breathing is back.

This time he doesn't fight back or say anything, just lies there, waiting for what is next. The sound of another zipper then the sound of something being chucked on the floor is what he hears next, lifting his head and looking over to see… Oh. My. God! Derek freaking Hale, practically naked! With no shirt or pants, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. Stiles is definitely sure he has died and gone to heaven.

"Stiles…"

Oh, God, oh God, oh God. There's that voice. It haunts Stiles's dreams nearly every night. Wait… he didn't just say that out loud, right? He did? Well. Crap. Stiles curses himself for the whimper that escapes his lips when Derek hovers over him, red eyes blazing and fangs extended like canines, furry sideburns and pointy wolf ears of the alpha prettynoticeable. Derek is officially wolfed out, half-naked, and so close that Stiles can basically taste the peppermint of his breath.

This is like a dream come true.

Stiles feels his heartbeat quickening, pounding in his chest, and he is pretty sure that Derek can hear it too. Even if the alpha hears it, he doesn't pay it any attention. Instead his attention is directed to a certain part of Stiles's body that has the teen begging for touch. Stiles follows Derek's gaze, wondering what the alpha is thinking. He has a pretty good idea, though.

"So, what, you're just going to sit there half-naked and stare at me?" Stiles teases.

Derek snorts. It's the only actual, human sound Stiles has heard the alpha make other than growls or whimpers since they'd started this… whatever this was. "You want me to do something then," Derek says. Stiles barely catches the bemused tone in his voice.

"Well, some attention might be nice." Stiles smirks. He wriggles his hips up, jean-clad erection brushing the alpha's in a light touch of friction. The reaction is a low growl and before Stiles can blink Derek has tugged his jeans down his legs until they are off and has them thrown away with the other discarded clothing.

"Attention," Derek growls, rumbling in his throat as he eyes the teen's white boxer shorts. Stiles gulps, knowing too late that he shouldn't have said anything. Now he has really gotten the alpha wound up. "Attention. You want it?" he growls again, smirking, red eyes florescent in Stiles's vision as he runs a hand down the front of Stiles's boxers. The teen moans, hips bucking up into Derek's palm involuntarily, desperately craving more friction.

"D-Derek… please… s-stop teasing," he begs. He grabs a hold of the alpha's forearms, nails digging into the skin as Derek slips a hand past the waistband of his shorts, cock throbbing when the alpha's hand meets his heated flesh, caressing it almost too gently for Stiles to even think that this is the same Derek Hale, big bad alpha and steely-eyed sourwolf.

"Patience," Derek orders, red eyes glinting dangerously. Stiles gulps, nodding and just laying his head back again, as hard as it is with Derek freaking Hale basically about to give him a hand job. He gasps, not expecting the sudden tight squeeze, the alpha's fingers wrapping around his whole length, giving an experimental tug. Holy fuck does that not feel even the slightest bit experimental!

"Oh… f-fuck… Derek." He manages to grip the alpha's upper arms, nails digging in further until he swears he has shed blood. Derek roars—holy fuck like roars—and tightens his grip on Stiles's cock, the teen throwing his head back and groaning weakly, hips rising up off the floor.

"Stiles, if you don't stop digging your bloody nails in I won't be able to control my inner wolf much longer," Derek warns—well, technically growls—and Stiles almost immediately loosens his grip on the alpha's forearms, feeling blood encrusted under his fingernails. Holy crap! He's made Derek bleed! Shit.

"S-Sorry," Stiles apologises. The only response he gets is a very rough, highly executed pump to his cock, the alpha's hand twisting to the side in a flick-like motion mid-pump that has him ever so close to coming. Derek then uses his other hand to slide down Stiles's boxer shorts, the teen lifting his legs so they can slip off. Like all of the other clothing, they are thrown to the floor. Next Stiles watches Derek shimmy his own off, chucking them away also, before practically throwing himself on Stiles, nose once again nuzzled into Stiles's neck and erection pressing rather forcefully into his hip.

Both of them are naked now, no clothing left to hinder the touch of one another. So, there's no turning back now, right?

Stiles runs his hands down the alpha's back, memorising where the tattoo is and tracing it with his fingertips lightly. Derek purrs and nuzzles in deeper, tongue flicking out and licking a line beneath Stiles's chin, just under his pulse point. Stiles moans, craning his neck up while skimming his hands further down to Derek's ass, giving a tight squeeze. The snarl-like growl from the alpha in response is more than enough reaction.

"Stiles," Derek growls, nipping on the teen's earlobe, hands finding their place on Stiles's hips before he rocks up into them roughly. Stiles can't help it. He lets out a sharp cry, nails digging into the skin of Derek's ass as he rolls his hips in response. "Stiles… w-want… n-need you," Derek pants, breath tickling the hairs on the back of Stiles's neck. Wait, what? Derek wants him? Him? Stiles Stilinski?

Stiles thought that Derek would want to top, if they were really going to go that far. It's now clear that they are. But Derek wants Stiles? Not the other way around? Stiles is seriously confused. But what the hell, right? He is so not going to pass up hot alpha sex with Derek freaking Hale. No way.

"Um, o-okay. So, d-do you want me to…?" He trails off, caught in the alpha's intense red eyes. Derek's lips draw back, revealing his canines, before he snarls, nudging Stiles's hips with his own, snarl breaking off into a whimper. Holy crap! "O-Okay, I—I'll…" Stiles looks down, not knowing what the hell to do. He knows that if they are going to do this they will need lube but he has no clue where any is, and it is very unlikely Derek will have some around here.

"Use your spit," Derek growls. Huh. Good idea. Stiles brings a finger to his mouth, sucking on it until it is fully coated before slipping in two more, coating them the same way. When they are dripping with saliva, he takes them out of his mouth. Not sure what to say, he moves onto the next step, pressing a finger to the tight hole of Derek's entrance. The alpha flinches, rumbling low in his chest.

"L-Look, I haven't… done this before. So, if I hurt you, I'm sorry," Stiles apologises in advance before letting the tip of his finger slide in. He isn't sure what to expect, so the warmth clamping down around his finger comes as quite a shock. He lets his finger stay there, not really knowing what to do next.

"Stiles. Move it," Derek grinds out.

"What if I h-hurt you… I—I don't want to hurt you," Stiles whimpers.

"Stiles. Move. It," Derek practically roars, pushing his hips back momentarily so Stiles can feel his finger sinking in a little deeper, though only by about an inch.

"Okay. J-Just… I'm sorry if this hurts," Stiles squeaks. He crooks his finger, sliding it in further, the tightness loosening slowly. Derek growls, rocking his hips back again, nuzzling his nose into Stiles's chest. Stiles isn't sure what to do. He doesn't know if he's hurting Derek or not. God, he hopes he isn't. After a few more slides in and wriggling his finger, he's pretty sure the alpha is ready for a second finger.

"Just do it," Derek huffs out, replying to Stiles's unspoken question. Jeez, how does he do that?

"Okay... here goes." Stiles braces himself, slipping the second finger in. Almost immediately, the loosened muscles tighten and Stiles dreads doing this again. He begins to slowly scissor his fingers, trying to wedge them in deeper, most preferably painlessly, but the strained whimpers and growls coming from the alpha beg to differ. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeats, crooking both fingers at the same time as scissoring, feeling the muscles that are bunched up loosen.

"Stop a-apologising and h-hurry up," Derek half-growls, half-whimpers.

Stiles whimpers himself, adding the third and last finger, dread settling in the pit of his stomach once again when the muscles tighten considerably, trying to accommodate the intruder. He makes sure to scissor them all, stretching the entrance wide. The snarled whimper of the alpha is torture and all he wants to do is stop but he keeps going, knowing Derek will probably kill him if he does stop.

"Don't you e-even think of stopping," Derek grumbles. Stiles is waiting, just waiting for the usual threat. "O-Or I'll… rip your… throat out… with m-my teeth." Yep, and there it is. Perfect!

"You know, I don't think you're in the right position to be giving out threats like that," Stiles teases. The low, rumbled growl deep in the alpha's throat isn't even a little bit threatening either.

"S-Stiles… I swear… if you… d-don't..." Stiles doesn't need to hear the rest. Plus, he doesn't want to make the alpha wait any longer. Neither does he want to think about how uncomfortable it would feel to have someone's fingers stuffed up your ass. While they're rambling incessantly. He crooks his fingers, drawing them all back at once, brushing up against the alpha's inner muscles, causing Derek to flinch and groan weakly.

When his fingers are out he looks at them, not sure what he will see. The only visible thing he can see is the last remnants of his saliva still coating them. He looks up at Derek next. The alpha's eyes are glazed hazel, wolf back in control, though he is panting, sweat glistening his tan skin. Stiles is actually surprised, and a little bit scared. Big bad alpha Derek can take on hunters, kill over-domineering uncles who go all ape-shit crazy wolf, and basically handle anything that is thrown at him. Seeing the alpha like this, all over a little preparation? It's just… feels weird.

Stiles waits for about a minute, still trying to wrap his head around all of this. He can feel the tension heating up. Any minute now, Derek will probably order him to hurry up and do something. It's only a matter of time…

"Stiles…" Yep, sourwolf is back. Great!

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there," he says, again not sure how the fuck to start this up. If Derek looks all pale and shaking only after preparation, Stiles doesn't want to even think about how he'll look after this is all done with. "Look. I haven't done anything like this before, dude. So, if I'm, you know, bad as hell at it? Well…"

"For fuck's sake Stiles, just do it!" Derek snarls—like, really snarls this time—canines bared and red eyes flashing.

"Holy shi—okay, okay!" Stiles squeaks. He spits on his hand before rubbing them together, grabbing his cock and covering it from base to tip. When he's pretty sure it is fully coated he looks at Derek. The alpha is eyeing his cock with… Is that lust in the wolf's eyes?

"Stiles, hurry up," Derek growls. "Or I will rip your throat out. With my teeth. Don't think I won't." Yep, that threat really never does get old, does it?

"That threat? Again? You know what? I don't think you will. I think you're bluffing," Stiles chuckles.

Derek gives him the sourwolf look, all steely-eyed and everything. "Do you really want to find out?" His lips curve and Stiles swears the alpha is smirking.

Stiles huffs lowly under his breath. Curse that stupid mutt and his half-hidden smirks and half-true threats. He readies himself, tip lined up perfectly. "Okay, this is probably going to hurt," he cautions.

Derek laughs and yep, Stiles is pretty sure the alpha is on crack or something. "I know that, you idiot. God Stiles, do you think I live under a rock? I know more than you do on how this works."

Stiles sighs. Up yourself much? Well. It is Derek Hale, right? He shakes his head, ignoring the urge to hammer into the wolf with no warning, just to show the alpha that he does in, in fact, know how this works. But then he'd probably hurt Derek, and he doesn't want that. So, he settles for just pushing in slowly until the head is fully sheathed, warm and tight heat gripping his cock almost instantly. He groans, wrapping his arms around the alpha's waist and pushing forward more, enough so that he is nearly bottomed out. When he's sure Derek is adjusted enough, both panting, Stiles goes that little bit further, bottoming out well and truly before stopping, catching his breath.

"Stiles... move," Derek growls. Stiles can hear the alpha's panted breaths and feel them tickling the back of his neck. He obeys, not wanting an angry wolf on his hands—well, cock is more of a better thing to say—and raises his hips, tightening his grip on Derek's waist before pulling out halfway, sliding back in slowly and carefully.

Derek moans and Stiles and feels nails digging into his shoulder blades as he pulls back again, this time all the way, before slamming back in hard, groaning and burying his head in the crook of the alpha's neck. He feels Derek's hips rise on the next thrust, just as he swivels his own to the right, the wolf-like howl of the alpha definitely enough for Stiles to know he has just found Derek's prostate. He can feel the many muscles pulsing around his cock, tightening momentarily before loosening once again, enough time for Stiles to have another hit at the prostate, broken moans escaping his lips and a fierce howl in response from Derek.

"D-Derek… f-fuck… oh G-God," Stiles curses, panting. He pulls back all the way to the hilt, holding onto Derek's back and scraping his fingernails down the skin, probably leaving scratch marks, hammering back in and throwing his head back, a howl—though not wolf-like—escaping his lips at pretty much the same time as a totally alpha-like howl escapes Derek's.

He really never thought that sex would feel this good. It's one of best feelings in the world! Yes, you caught onto that one huh? Stiles has never had sex. Well. Not until now. He's having hot, alpha sex with Derek freaking Hale! It's either he has died and gone to heaven or this is one of his favourite wet dreams. Either those or Derek has officially lost his mind.

All of those things soon evade his mind though, focusing back in on the now, as Derek raises his hips again, high enough that Stiles is pretty sure that the alpha must have done many push ups in his time, before lowering himself back down on Stiles's dick, growl rumbling low and guttural in his throat. Stiles can't hold back the howl—this one actually surprising him for it sounds so close to wolf-like—as he picks up a steady, rhythmic pace of shallow thrusts, Derek rising to each in quick succession.

"Stiles… move… f-faster," Derek grunts, bucking his up roughly. Stiles skims his hands down, gripping Derek's ass, pushing the alpha up against him and quickening up the pace, shallow thrusts soon losing their rhythm until they are just erratic. Stiles feels the heat rise, filling him from the inside out, the sudden, full sensation taking effect, half-broken moans and groans leaving his lips.

"Derek… Shit! I—I'm gonna…" he gasps. Stiles manages to finish off with about five off-beat thrusts, all of them somehow nailing the alpha's prostate with high accuracy, before he cries out and his back arches, sweet release taking a hold, hips jerking as he comes.

Stiles isn't sure how it's possible for someone to howl that bloody loud, even given the advantage of being an alpha. He swears his eardrums burst as Derek throws his head back, red eyes flashing and canines extending as he fully wolfs out, a fierce and mighty roar erupting from deep within his throat, so loud Stiles guesses that all of the other wolves in the entire world can possibly hear it. Oh, crap. Scott and all of the pack! What if they hear? Shit.

When the howl has actually finished its worldwide echo, just a small, quiet sound left outside in the distance of the woods, Derek sags forward. Stiles isn't ready for the heavy weight of alpha falling on top him so he isn't prepared in the least, nearly being crushed to death by the werewolf.

"Uhhh… Derek? I'm kind of being crushed to death here," he wheezes, trying to push the alpha off of him. Derek grunts, rolling off of Stiles weakly and lying on his back beside the teen. Stiles turns to look at him, eyes widening.

Derek looks totally, utterly wrecked. He never looks wrecked! Stiles is honestly worried that he has actually broken the alpha. No. That isn't possible. Derek Hale is unbreakable. A force to be reckoned with. Yet here he is, lying there with eyes clenched shut, breathing raggedly, body glistened with sweat. Yep, Stiles is sure this isn't right. This is wrong, so wrong, on too many levels.

"Stiles, if you don't calm down you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Derek murmurs breathlessly. Stiles jumps, for a minute wondering how... Oh yeah, the creepy wolf-like psychic hearing.

"Yeah, well, right now you look worse off than me. Are you sure you're not going to have a heart attack?" he chuckles. Stiles regrets it instantly when Derek opens his eyes, hazel irises glazed but still managing to look steely and threatening. "But don't worry, even if you do have a heart attack, you won't die. You're like totally... invincible?" He squeaks the last word, not sure what effect it will have on the alpha. There are two effects in total.

1. Derek will tackle him, probably strangle him, and then beat the living crap out of him.

2. Derek will finally live up to his threats, ripping his throat out with his sharp, pointy alpha-like canine teeth... Oh God!

Well, guess what? Neither of them happen.

Stiles is now pretty sure the alpha is on crack or some other freaky shit. Because instead of the normal threats or physical abuse… He laughs. Derek laughs. Yep, rewind if necessary. Derek freaking Hale, big bad alpha, sourwolf of the century and seedy drug dealer looking werewolf—possibly explains where he got the crack from—laughs. And it's not a sarcastic laugh or even a dark or snorted laugh. No. It's a light, bubbly laugh. Something Stiles didn't even think the alpha was capable of.

"Invincible," Derek snorts. "Really?"

"Um, is this where I'm meant to say yes or…?" Stiles is cut off with another laugh, this one loud and… boisterous? Yep, Derek has officially taken the crazy train to crazy town. Stiles is about to say something else when he hears a soft, dull ring.

His mobile.

Which is in his jeans, that are probably chucked some place unreachable.

"Uh, let me just—I'm going to get that," he says, standing up.

And, of course he is pulled back down, soon wrapped up in the chuckling alpha's arms, being planted with soft kisses.

This is insane.

And kind of… kind of cute. (Dare he admit it.)

God. How is this his life?