YOU ALL ARE FILTHY-MINDED PEOPLE. Just like me. I love it. I appreciate all of your suggestions soooo much! Feel free to leave any more. There's so many more ideas I want to explore and write, so it looks like you guys are stuck with this story for a long time. ;)

This was intended to include more of the Red Riding Hood idea as suggested by the darling Dragonryder94, who has been nothing but kind to me. I'm sososo sorry I couldn't get more than a nod of RRH in, this one wrote itself, I swear...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a future hotel room in hell. I'm pretty sure such naughty thoughts are frowned upon up-above.

The fragile autumn leaves crunched under his worn sneakers as Stiles took tentative steps through the darkness. He could feel eyes on him, watching his every move, but the stars didn't offer enough light for him to get a good look around. A brisk wind blew through the woods, making the trees creak eerily around him; he tugged his sweatshirt closer around his body, flipping the red hood up over his head as he rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands together.

"It's fucking freezing out here, and I'm alone. Great fucking idea, Derek," he mumbled, watching his words turn into little puffs of white in the chilled air.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a clawed hand wrapped around his waist from behind, warm breath and sharp teeth on his neck. He shivered when a low voice echoed in his ear.

"You're not alone."

The elongated teeth were scraping down the exact path of his jugular, and Stiles couldn't manage more than short gasps and pants, all of which froze on the night air. And then the warmth of the other body was gone without so much as a whisper of noise.

Stiles spun on his heel. There was nothing behind him. Not a sign that anything had been. His heart beat a little bit faster and his palms began to sweat.

This shit was creepy.

He could feel the eyes on him again as he squinted up at the few stars he could see through the canopy of trees above. A branch behind him rustled and he spun around again. A low, predatory chuckle reverberated throughout the forest, bouncing off tree trunks and surrounding him. His head jerked all around, his eyes wide and straining against the blackness, trying desperately to locate the source of the ghostly laughter. Trying to focus on anything, really.

"D-Derek?" He breathed, the name turning to smoke and disappearing around him.

The laughter stopped. The woods were still for a moment. Not a crackling leaf, not a breath of wind, no crickets' chirp. Absolute silence. And then—


Stiles' feet had never carried him faster. He dodged low branches, hurtled over roots and logs, a rabbit sprinting for its life from the unbeatable predator. It seemed the trees were alive around him, breathing and panting with him, screaming at him to move faster, converging in on him. He urged his legs faster, the pounding blood in his ears the only thing he could hear. He didn't dare to look back, too afraid of what he might see following him. His vision tunneled ahead and it was all he could do to keep going, desperately clinging to the adrenaline coursing in his every cell as his only source of energy. His lungs were on fire, the icy air doing nothing to put out the blaze, and still he ran.

He ducked behind the trunk of a tree, cursing the full moon for spotlighting him in the darkness, and wheezed, doubled over, until a loud crack echoed out. He straightened up, frozen against the tree, and tried to keep his eyes open. He waited with bated breath.

After all, there was only so much you could do when the town's most feared creature was hunting you.

Another crack sounded, and Stiles jumped. He slowly inched his way closer to the edge of the trunk, taking a breath before peeking around to look out into the woods. There was nothing there; the trees were no longer crying out to him, the crickets were chirping away. The forest was the same as it'd ever been. Just an average autumn night.

Stiles closed his eyes in relief, pulling his head back around to lean fully against the trunk of the tree again. He smiled lightly, allowing himself to breathe regularly.

And then he opened his eyes and screamed.

Derek grinned in his face. His teeth protruded intimidatingly and Stiles found himself staring as they glowed in the moonlight. The wolf placed his clawed hands on either side of Stiles' head and pressed their bodies flush together, trapping the smaller man against the bark. He leaned in close, dragging his nose up the still-trembling kid's neck and across his jaw, breathing deeply.


Stiles gasped, still trying to catch his breath, and curled his hands around Derek's hips to pull them closer. He leaned his head back against the tree, exposing his throat to the lycan.

"Fuck you. A hunting fantasy? Jesus Christ. Fuck you, that was terrifying."

Derek smiled against his skin, licking a strip across his collarbone that immediately raised goosebumps in the biting air. "Oh, we haven't gotten to the fantasy part just yet."

The wolf pulled his head back, staring at the shivering kid with that icy blue gaze, his brow bulging and curved, all of his features sharply defined and distinctly animalistic. Stiles wondered if maybe he should be worried. What if Derek were to lose himself in the wolf?

…Would this be considered bestiality?

And really, fuck it. Stiles didn't care. He shivered when the taller man slipped his cold hands under the red sweatshirt to rest against the taut stomach underneath, and Stiles lifted his head to meet the pale blue eyes. He nodded absently, his voice scratchy and low when he responded.

"Well go on, then. Finish what you started."

Derek was eager to oblige. He'd never had his prey tell him to continue before.

He grasped the back of Stiles' neck, clawed thumb wrapped around to trace the protruding Adam's Apple, and he couldn't help but love the way it bobbed under his touch. The jolt that ran up his fingers was electric, pulsing with the need to bury his nails into the tender flesh, watch the blood spill over and paint his hand crimson.

It would be so easy, after all.

But no. He wanted Stiles sinking onto his cock, moaning with pleasure. Definitely not sinking to the ground, bleeding to death. Big difference there.

He moved his palm from Stiles' neck, skirting up the skin to curve around the kid's chin and hold tightly. Their lips met with fervor, tongues dancing and razor-sharp teeth pulling; Derek slipped both hands down to cup the smaller boy's ass and lift while Stiles simultaneously jumped. The wolf pushed him back against the tree harder, leaving the boy suspended between the trunk and his mate, legs secured vice-like around Derek's middle, as though he'd had any intention of leaving. Stiles' arms wound around the werewolf's neck; the lycan raised him higher to lap at his collarbone while the kid pushed his jean-clad hard-on into Derek's stomach and moaned.

Derek knew they had all night—the full moon wasn't going anywhere for a while—but the frenzy, the desperation, was swallowing them both and Derek wanted these clothes off five minutes ago, damnit.

He pressed his mate to the tree harder still, effectively pinning him with his hips, and pulled one hand away to hastily undo his own jeans and yank them down just enough to expose his cock to the cool air. Gritting his teeth—well, fangs, really—he did the same to Stiles' jeans, pulling them down over the curve of his ass to stop mid-thigh, and held the boy's half-lidded gaze as he sucked his own fingers into his mouth.

"D-dude," Stiles breathed, word freezing in the little space between them, "claws away."

And Derek grinned, holding the slippery digits up and making a show of retracting the sharp nails. He trailed his hand down the other's body with a practiced ease, sliding his fingers into his mate's body, as expertly as if it were his own. He knew the exact angle at which to hit Stiles' prostate, and how to drag his index finger across it, tantalizingly enough to reduce the kid to a whimpering mess in his arms.

He watched the muscles under Stiles' closed eyes twitch, watched his mouth fall slack. Derek licked at his bottom lip before claiming his mouth to swallow the kid's protest when he pulled his fingers out. The wolf stroked his own cock lazily before replacing his hand under the smaller man's ass. He lifted him again, spine tingling as his mate curled his fingers into the dark hair on the back of his head, before easing him back down on his length. He waited, breathing heavily into the boy's damp shoulder.

Stiles whined against the burning stretch, back arching into the tree, and he lifted his hips impatiently. And that was all the invitation Derek needed. He wrapped one hand around Stiles' waist, circling his thumb over the skin.

"Hold on," he muttered, feeling the arms around his neck constrict and dull nails scratch up his back, and then he moved. He dropped his hips at the same time he lifted Stiles up, and brought the kid back down again, earning a moan from Stiles that echoed his own when their hips crashed together. And they built a rhythm.

The air was still frigid and the friction from their jeans was a just a little too much, but Stiles was moaning his name over and over into his ear and Derek wanted to never stop. He raised his mate up just slightly so the kid's chin rested against his forehead, and buried his face into the hollow of Stiles' neck. He forced his eyes to stay open enough to watch the bead of sweat trail down the pale column and pool just above his collarbone.

Stiles' skin was pale in the moonlight, deathly so, and Derek was stunned by how ethereal he appeared. His eyes and hair were strikingly dark against the glowing pallor. The kid looked perfect under the full moon, and hey, he didn't seem to be complaining about the effects it had on Derek, either.

Their bodies rocked together easily, in perfect synchronization. Stiles' back scraped against the rough bark, his mouth was slack and his face held an expression that almost resembled pain, but Derek knew better. The wolf watched him with his teeth bared, their proximity so close that his eyes nearly crossed in doing so, and took in every detail, studied each tiny facial contortion. He drummed a pattern-less beat into the boy's hip. He wasn't entirely sure how the world was going on as usual around them, when all he could think was a steady mantra of mine.

And then Stiles opened his eyes and held his gaze.

Derek could feel it coming up on him, could sense temporary bliss coaxing him lovingly, and he closed his hand around Stiles' length to pump in time with his frantic thrusts. The kid's breath hitched with each snap of the wolf's hips, but his eyes never left the bright blue intensity of Derek's.

And then he froze, gritting his teeth before moaning Derek's name one last, broken time, and painted the older's fist in milky white strings. Derek pressed their lips together sloppily, crying out into Stiles' mouth, and barely had time for one more thrust before he was coming, clutching the kid's hip so hard he knew he'd have to apologize for the bruise he'd leave.

They breathed against one another, sweating under their clothes despite the biting chill. Stiles choked out a laugh, grinning down at Derek's raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. You definitely caught me."

And Derek barked a laugh, features transforming back into their hominine normality. He didn't even scowl when Stiles leaned in to press a quick peck to his nose. The kid unwound his legs from the taller man's waist and dropped to the ground, knees wobbling at the reintroduction of gravity, before gingerly zipping his jeans back up while Derek did the same. Stiles offered up a small smile and turned to place his hands against the tree, back to Derek.

"Hey, does my back look red?"

Derek carefully lifted the sweatshirt, and even in the dull light, he could see the angry red scratches littering his mate's back. He growled noncommittally and ran his finger down the spine, chuckling when Stiles shivered.

Stiles felt lips brush his shoulder before he was turned around again, Derek's hands heavy on his hips.

"Little bit," the wolf told him huskily, a tiny grin on his face, "sorry."

"Mmm, don't be." Stiles pressed a kiss to his mate's clothed chest, fingers playing idly with the hem of his shirt. "That was…thrilling. Knowing it was only you, that I was safe, but still feeling the fear. It was fun."

Derek smiled above him, kissing his temple. "Adrenaline junkie, now, huh?"

Stiles shrugged. "Maybe," he said, a sly grin gracing his lips. "All I know is that this gave me an idea for my next turn."

And Derek leaned close while Stiles told him the plan.

Well. With an ending like that, I should tell you - the next chapter will have warnings. You have been...prewarned?

PS, If you want to see the cutest video of Posey in the world, search on youtube: "baby says Tyler Posey" - from TroixTV. No, seriously. Just do it. I smiled for hours.

I get more excited when I get a review than I do when THoech tweets pictures of the VMAs. So. :)