A/N: I'm newly obsessed with this pairing, which usually results in fic. Part 1 of 2, Derek's POV, set after the pool scene, with spoilers implied but not really heavy, as this is mostly porn. Enjoy!
Perchance to Dream
It was that magic hour in the middle of the night when no good decisions were ever made. Derek knew that, but then he often lived more nocturnally than by the sun, so what did the hour matter to him?
He was still somewhat stiff and sluggish from being paralyzed, and his skin was dry and shriveled on his fingertips from hours in the pool. He should have been asleep, regaining his strength. But he found himself standing outside Stiles' house instead.
Stiles wasn't an idiot. Annoying, but not an idiot. So of course he would make the prudent choice and protect Derek, who was often the only thing standing between Stiles and certain doom. But, at the same time, part of Derek knew that it was more than just practicality and self-preservation. Stiles was a good kid. He might even be someone Derek could...trust. And part of him wanted to, especially after that night. But the only way to be sure he could trust Stiles, the only way to be sure he could keep Stiles safe...was to bring him into the pack.
Stiles already was part of the pack, in a sense, but he was fragile. Human. As a wolf, Derek could teach him to protect himself. There would be no doubt of trust; Derek would be Stiles' Alpha. They'd be bound, kin, brothers. And Derek could stop worrying that some other wolf or nameless creature might come and tear Stiles' throat out.
The window had been left partially open, like an invitation for Derek to slip inside. Stiles was asleep on the bed, the covers tossed aside as if he were overheated, lying in just his shorts and a T-shirt. The bedroom door was closed and the house was quiet. If Derek trained his ears, he could hear Mr. Stilinski softly snoring in his bedroom at the other end of the hall.
Silently, Derek crossed to the bed, leaning over Stiles a moment to be sure he was asleep. The even rise and fall of Stiles' chest was a good sign, and it was no wonder, since Stiles had to be exhausted after treading water for that long, while also holding Derek up.
Derek took a deep breath. Stiles had showered, leaving him mostly smelling of soap but with the undercurrent of chlorine, and subtle traces of Derek from them having been so closely met for such a long time. Derek crept closer, moved on top of the bed carefully and quiet, hovering over Stiles and taking in his scent deeply. Stiles would make a fine wolf. He was cunning, smart. He just didn't have the muscle or speed to save himself. Derek could change that. Derek would change that.
Deep down Derek knew that if it had come down to it, Stiles would have risked his own life to make sure Derek survived, and knowing that now, no longer filled with fear or the familiar sense of betrayal, but able to look back and truly understand everything Stiles had done and had been willing to do, he felt ashamed for acting so ungrateful.
He would make it up to Stiles, even if, in the morning, the younger man hated him for it.
Derek's hands were on either side of Stiles' head, his body lifted up easily, as Derek breathed in along Stiles' neck and enjoyed the scent of himself there like a claim. Stiles was already his, a bite would simply make the bond blood.
Intent on finishing this quickly, Derek readied his teeth and pulled back...only to gaze down into open brown eyes.
The fangs instantly retreated as Derek stared. If Stiles struggled or screamed, it would make this so much harder. He had to act now. He had to bite him and go if he truly meant to finish this. But he froze.
Then, suddenly, Stiles smiled. "Sweet," the boy said, looking tired and blissful as he reached up for Derek's face. "I love this dream."
Derek's eyes widened as Stiles pulled him down into a kiss, devouring and lapping at his lips hungrily, with a confidence and skill that could only exist in dreams—or the ignorance of being in one.
Derek should have pushed Stiles away and fled. He should have stopped it right away, but Stiles was so...adamant and full of control, holding Derek's face in his hands and guiding him through the kiss as though he were the elder of the two and quite experienced, though Derek knew that wasn't true. It was so unexpected, so powerful in how Stiles' heart was racing, and Derek's was racing right along with it, in synch. Stiles' tongue traced the inside of Derek's mouth without a hint of hesitation, like he owned it, every inch of Derek's mouth and lips and tongue.
He had come here because in his weakened state he hadn't wanted to be around any of the others. He hadn't wanted to be around Erica—especially not Erica. And while he thought he had wanted to create another packmate, one who would understand, as Stiles did, what loss and sacrifice really meant, he was quickly starting to wonder if he had been seeking something else instead.
"Derek…" Stiles whined against the side of Derek's mouth.
There was questioning and want in the utterance, so Derek pulled back enough to look down. Stiles gazed hazily up at him, shifting his hips vainly toward Derek's, which were too far away for any friction.
"Come on, man, I'm dying here." Stiles sounded even more like a petulant child than usual, demanding to get his way, but for some inexplicable reason, Derek found himself complying, lowering the weight of his body onto the boy beneath him.
Stiles sighed in appreciation, grinding upwards with the same assuredness as he had kissed. His thin hips and already firm erection made Derek's arms tremble, feeling Stiles so distinctly through the thin cotton of his shorts. The movement wasn't even hurried, like Derek would have expected, but slow and purposeful, with a sense of just how much pressure would keep them going longer.
Derek hissed and felt his eyes flash red as his zipper grazed his own growing erection from the force of Stiles' steady thrusts. He felt a growl building in his throat and let it rumble. He suddenly very much wanted to bite...something. Anything.
"You are so fucking sexy. Why can't you want me like this when I'm awake?"
Derek blinked down at Stiles, at how his cheeks were flush and his eyes looked almost black in the dark. "You never asked."
Stiles grinned. "Coz you'd rip my throat out, and I quote...'with your teeth'...if I so much as batted my eyelashes at you, Big Man."
True, Derek had said something about teeth once. But he just shrugged in reply. "Well..." he said, breathing hotly on Stiles' lips as he leaned down again, "maybe I'd surprise you."
Stiles gaped at him, and Derek wondered if the kid was finally starting to realize he wasn't dreaming. Then Stiles grinned again, safe in his delusions that this couldn't possibly be real. "You'll probably choose a mate from the pack, like Erica," he wrinkled his nose, "have a bunch of puppies, and forget I exist."
Derek stilled their constant grinding with a firm press. On principle, he wanted to be offended by the puppies comment, but instead, he said, "My mate doesn't have to be a wolf."
Stiles blinked hopefully up at him.
"But I still want you to be one. If you're part of the pack, really part of the pack, you'll be stronger, safer." Derek let his teeth out again to show his intent.
Stiles swallowed. "But…my dad…"
"You want your dad to be a wolf too?"
"No," Stiles choked out, "but…he'll be in even more danger…won't he?"
Derek growled, leaning down closer so that their noses bumped together and Stiles squeaked. "Are you going to stop running around with the pack, sticking your nose into everything, trying to solve every little mystery, holding up people twice your size in a pool for two hours—"
"Okay, I get the point!"
"Your dad wouldn't be in any more danger than he already is. He might even be in less, because he'd be pack, simply by association, and you know I protect my own." Derek leaned back then and reigned in his fangs.
Taking in Stiles' expression, the kid looked so unsure, scared, like maybe he didn't like this dream anymore and wanted to wake up. Suddenly, Derek couldn't imagine biting Stiles against his will, regardless of his earlier resolve, so he started to pull away.
"No, don't go! I keep dreaming…"
"Dreaming…about you drowning. Dying. Leaving me…like Mom."
Derek stiffened, still laid out on top of Stiles, though without the full weight of him bearing down. He looked at the boy beneath him, at the familiar grief on Stiles' face, and ached for just how well he knew exactly what Stiles meant and what he was feeling.
"Please, Derek. Please...I like this dream better."
Derek cringed at how impossible it was to refuse such a plea, especially from a boy he knew was rarely so direct, so raw and open about things that wounded him. Stiles had just as many walls as Derek did. So Derek relaxed, settling back into position across Stiles' body.
Stiles smiled wildly, so grateful, blissed out beyond reason in the safety of his 'dream', and still very hard in his shorts against Derek's thigh. He pulled on either side of Derek's face again, thumbing at the stubble, and traced his tongue along the line of Derek's lips until he opened them.
Derek should leave. He knew he should leave. Styles wasn't thinking clearly, they were both exhausted, this was wrong on so many levels, but it felt so good to have Stiles' body pressed tight against his, hips mindlessly moving, mouth so impossibly skilled and inviting, that he just wanted to give in. He didn't know he could want something this much so suddenly, but something about the night, this night, and everything they had gone through, and now just the two of them in this stuffy bedroom, alone and safe, made Stiles feel like a drug Derek needed to survive.
One of the hands bracing Derek on the bed moved unconsciously to Stiles' chest and lower down the cotton of the T-shirt until it found the edge. Derek pushed his fingers up underneath the fabric along Stiles' stomach, and he heard Stiles' breath hitch. The slow, constant friction between them was maddening, because it wasn't enough, but Derek didn't dare do more when he felt some part of him being slowly overtaken by the wolf. He felt feverish and on the edge of control, like he was some young untrained beta.
What was Stiles doing to him?
Derek growled and pressed his forehead against Stiles' neck. "I need you…to be safe…and I don't know how to protect you. That's why I came here tonight. Not for this."
"Then change me."
Derek started, jerking away and staring down at Stiles in disbelief. His eyes were still dark, pupils blown, but the visible ring of brown was rich and warm.
"Promise you'll watch out for my dad…and that I can be your mate…and you can bite me. I wouldn't say yes to anyone else, you know…just you."
"Stiles…you don't understand…"
"I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. I want this to be real…" Stiles spoke with such desperation and naked need, Derek couldn't think of anything to say in reply. Stiles wasn't just offering himself to be a wolf, he was offering himself to Derek...for life.
Mirroring Derek's hand that was still pushed up underneath Stiles' T-shirt, Stiles found the edge of Derek's shirt and pressed the palms of his hands up along Derek's chest, raising the shirt as he went. When the shirt was bunched up under Derek's arms, Stiles leaned his head down to run his tongue over a nipple, and Derek arched into his mouth.
"Bite me, Derek," Stiles said, pausing to bite with his own flat, human teeth, and then lick again over the nipple that had hardened. "I want you to."
Stiles was in Derek's head now, pulling out his fantasies, because there had always been something feral and thrilling about the idea of someone asking to be bitten while caught up in the heat of passion. But that also made it dangerous. Derek couldn't clear his head; he was hazy with the feel of Stiles.
The attention to Derek's chest ceased as Stiles moved to his neck instead, then to his ear, where he licked, and sucked, and nibbled like a practiced whore, which Derek knew he wasn't. Derek was so distracted that he almost didn't notice the sound of zipper teeth separating.
"Ugnnn..." Derek moaned as his jeans were undone, relieving some of the built up pressure from Stiles' grinding. But the movement had stopped, allowing Stiles to slip his hand into the jeans, past the opening of Derek's boxers, and right to burning hot skin.
Derek's eyes flashed red again as Stiles's fingers wrapped around him.
"Stiles...close your eyes," Derek warned, because he feared he was about to go full-on Alpha for this and he was afraid Stiles would be terrified.
"No. I wanna see."
Derek moaned again, already half-changed like he was in beta form, and forced himself to push into Stiles' neck again if only to calm himself down, nuzzling and scenting him desperately. The way Stiles pulled at him, gently at first but insistent, hardened him further and made it difficult to breathe—to think.
Stiles gave Derek a parting tug and then his hand slipped out of the jeans. He gripped Derek's arms. "Do it."
A growl built in Derek's throat again, and he felt himself shift into his true form from the sheer power of being offered this—offered Stiles. He bit Stiles cleanly, firmly, at the base of the neck, careful around his jugular. Stiles clung to him tighter, but his sounds were more pleasured than pained as he gripped Derek's fury arms that slowly became just skin again as he regained full control. His shirt was a bit stretched from changing while still wearing it, but he didn't care.
Stiles looked almost drugged when Derek lifted up again, and happy, and wanton beneath him. "Come on, Mr. Big Bad Sour Wolf…claim the rest of me."
Derek was acutely aware that certain wolf traits weren't easily going away, like the sharpness of his fingernails, his red eyes, his fangs, the point to his ears, but he was trying, really trying to keep control, while at the same time...really missing the feel of Stiles' hand. "Stiles…you're barely seventeen. You've never even had sex before...have you?"
The grin Stiles tossed back at Derek was too goofy for the answer to be anything other than 'not a chance in Hell'. "Can't think of anyone I'd rather have deflower me," he said. "You're way better than my Lydia fantasies."
Derek growled at the mere mention of someone else he knew Stiles cared for—well, crushed on hopelessly.
"Derek, come on...I'm so hard, and you're so hot, and you promised I could be your mate now."
The childlike utterance stabbed a sudden sharp twinge of regret into Derek's chest for what he had just done, fearful now that Stiles really would hate him in the morning when he realized it was all real. "Stiles…you're not dreaming."
"You always say that."
"Derek…" Stiles whined mockingly back at him, slipping his small hand into Derek's jeans again and gripping him hard.
Derek bit back a howl. He was so going to Hell for this.
Reeling in the rest of the wolf was difficult, but Derek managed. He didn't want to risk injuring Stiles, even if the boy would be slowly opening up to his wolf senses and stronger constitution throughout the night. Once Derek's hands were fully human again, he gripped his stretched and bunched up shirt and pulled it off over his head to disappear in the shadows of the bedroom.
Stiles licked his lips as his eyes raked over Derek's bare chest, and the blatant appreciation made Derek preen just a bit. He shifted up, letting his knees settle on the bed on either side of Stiles' hips, and bent for another fierce kiss. He licked at Stiles lips before slipping his tongue between them, tasting the slight tang of blood that he knew Stiles had to taste too.
Moans began echoing from Stiles' throat like benediction, like worship, as Derek returned his hand to the flat of Stiles stomach beneath his T-shirt, sliding slowly lower and lower. When he was at the edge of Stiles' boxers, the heel of Derek's palm just barely pressing into the base of Stiles' cock, the boy bucked up and tore his lips away to moan loudly at the ceiling.
"Shhh...I'll know if your father wakes and starts heading this direction, but I don't think we want to get his attention right now."
Stiles nodded vaguely, his eyes glassy and adoring as Derek pulled back.
Derek looked at the bite marks emblazoned on Stiles' neck, not freely bleeding but still red and angry looking. He titled his head to lick at the small wounds, tasting that sharp tang again that meant Stiles was his.
"That really shouldn't be hot...but damn it is..." Stiles sighed. Derek felt the boy's hands fumbling between them to pull his jeans more fully open and start to tug them down Derek's hips. He let it happen as he continued to lick Stiles' neck, waiting until Stiles had managed to pull the denim down to his thighs where they were too tight to pull off easily.
"I got 'em," Derek said then, and pulled away long enough to shimmy the jeans off and kick them to the end of the bed, where they soon fell with a soft thud to the floor. Since the flap of his boxer briefs had already been parted, his erection protruded boldly from the fabric, and he watched as Stiles looked at it and licked his lips again.
"Dude, do your shorts have Batman on them?" Stiles asked with far more fondness and awe than any accusation.
"They're comfortable," Derek said with a touch of defensiveness anyway. These were his favorite underwear, he just rarely wore them if he thought someone might see them. "I can't have a favorite superhero?"
Stiles looked up into Derek's eyes and beamed. "I love you and the cowl and cape you rode in on."
Derek blinked. "That—what?" He was pretty sure that hadn't made any sort of sense. Other than the love part, which made him feel like his stomach was learning gymnastics with his liver as the padding.
Stiles just beamed brighter at him and kissed Derek like he was coming up for air and needed Derek's lips in order to breathe. It was only too easy to melt into their renewed embrace, and the second Derek's naked erection pressed against Stiles' naked thigh, he saw sparks behind his eyelids and thought his brain must have misfired a few synapses. His instincts told him to rut forward until he came, but he didn't want this over that quickly.
Pulling away and having to ignore Stiles' mewl of protest, Derek tugged at Stiles' T-shirt until the boy got the idea and lifted up so it could be tossed away. Derek wasted no time before sliding Stiles' simple navy boxers down his thin hips and tossing them to the floor as well. With Stiles bare beneath him, he couldn't help sitting up a moment to stare down at the boy and marvel.
Stiles squirmed under the close scrutiny. "What?" he finally sputtered, flushed now from more than mere arousal.
It was Derek's turn to lick his lips. He looked Stiles square in the eyes. "Why do you hide this under baggy T-shirts and flannels? All this..." he ran his hands from Stiles' shoulders down his chest and sides to his hips, "...toned muscle. I just want to..." Derek growled, unable to form the words to describe what he wanted to do to Stiles.
"Eat me all up?" Stiles offered with a lopsided grin.
"That sounds about right."
Derek was true to his words as he devoured Stiles' mouth again, stretching his body out to feel the full expanse of skin on skin, only it wasn't really a full expanse with his own shorts still in the way.
Stiles was in Derek's head again, reading his desires, because the bold boy suddenly flipped them, rolling Derek to the left until their positions were reversed and Stiles was sprawled across his body. They teetered precariously close to the edge of the bed a moment before they corrected themselves, and then Stiles was tearing Derek's shorts down his legs and off over his shoulder into the dark.
"You're so fucking hot," Stiles hummed as he sat up on Derek's thighs, tongue darting out at his lips again before he bit his bottom lip and roughly ran both hands over his short hair, like he thought he might be losing his mind from over-sensation. "You're like some preteen heartthrob fantasy guy...in my bed. Like the best dream ever, or...or Christmas, or fireworks, or...Knight Rider reruns."
Derek snorted. "You are such a dork."
Stiles grinned, all teeth and wide brown eyes that drank Derek right in—every last bit of him, even the parts Derek didn't really like. Stiles took it all in and reflected back something that Derek didn't resent nearly as much as he thought he would.
A gasp left Derek as he felt Stiles take him in hand again, the boy straddling his hips low enough that their erections touched without assistance, only Stiles very quickly assisted as a surprisingly large hand wrapped around them both and squeezed them tight together. Rubbing mutual precum across them both as he began a slow pump, Stiles rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, adding to the simple pulls with that impossible confidence and skill again.
"How..." Derek hissed, "...do you know how to do all this so damn well?"
Stiles' grin turned lopsided again. "Lots of porn."
Derek laughed and then had to bite back a howl as Stiles' increased the friction, pumping faster with his hand and his hips. Derek stared hard at Stiles, trying to convey with his eyes—since his mouth and brain were no longer accurately communicating enough for him to speak—what he wanted. He wondered then if his eyes flashed red or some Alpha message had been inadvertently sent, because Stiles almost immediately seemed to understand.
He slowed his rhythm gradually and then released his grip, sliding up past Derek's hips until he was settled on his stomach instead. He laid forward on Derek's chest, reached blindly for Derek's right hand while holding his gaze, and began to lead Derek's fingers to his lower back and over the curve of his ass.
"Care to help a wayward virgin out?" he said, gaze constant and without reservations.
Derek was amazed at how easy this all was for Stiles, like he had had this dream a thousand times and knew exactly how he wanted everything to play out. Obligingly, Derek took back control of his hand and guided his fingers between Stiles' cheeks, glad for his blunt nails as he began to push in and stretch the boy, focusing harder than ever on not letting any of the wolf out—not just now.
Only after Derek had two fingers in up past the knuckle did Stiles' eyes close, brow furrowing as a low moan escaped his lips. Mere seconds passed before Stiles' eyes flashed open again and he pushed himself up, looking down at Derek with such demanding, he didn't need to use any words.
Derek moved his hands to grip Stiles' hips, while Stiles reached back to guide Derek in, lifting up at first and then sitting back slowly, until Derek was sheathed deep inside of him and a rather unmanly noise escaped his throat.
"Ffffuck..." Stiles gasped, the crinkles around his eyes tense, but there was a satisfied smile tugging at his lips and he relaxed, all at once releasing the pressure around Derek and then tightening again—purposely.
"Fuck," Derek echoed. He squeezed Stiles' hips between his hands, desperate suddenly for release after their slow build and unsure if he could hold back as much as Stiles probably needed.
Stiles shook his head. "Don't worry about me," he said, as if he had read those thoughts from Derek's mind. "I'm good. Soooo...good." He ran his tongue slowly across his bottom lip before biting it again and rocking his hips forward at the same time. He slid from Derek and pushed back down with such careful torture, such ease and seeming talent that Derek found he could do nothing but enjoy the ride and hang on tightly.
Derek rocked his own hips subtly upward, but Stiles was so deliberate in his movements, no assistance was really needed. Derek had to bask in the boy above him, who wanted him so deeply, so badly, that he held all the power in his hands...and knew it. The smile on Stiles' face and the light in his warm brown eyes showed that he knew it and took it as a gift.
Like Derek was something precious and beautiful.
A soft growl rumbled through Derek's chest, and the sound and vibrations widened Stiles' smile further. Little by little their rhythm increased, Stiles rocking back and forth with wild abandon and deep possession of Derek. And Derek gave himself over willingly, pressing his head back into the pillow as he held the boy in place and lost himself in the feeling of Stiles, all around him.
When Derek came, he expected Stiles to pull away, but the boy didn't; he hung on tight and rode through his own orgasm, pumping himself quick and rough at the end and leaving stripes across Derek's stomach.
They laid amidst their sticky mess for several minutes, just breathing deep, Stiles collapsed forward on Derek, while Derek, still mostly hard, remained inside of Stiles, happily twitching.
When Derek finally softened, he slid away, rolling out from under Stiles to retrieve the first article of discarded clothing he could find on the floor, which turned out to be Stiles' T-shirt, and used it to wipe them both clean. Stiles merely stretched out on the bed, waiting for Derek to join him again. Derek did, and pulled the boy in against his side.
"So fucking hot?"
Stiles actually giggled. "Yeah it was." He turned an adoring expression on Derek and just stared for a long time. Finally, grin wide, he said, "Best. Dream. Ever." Then he nuzzled against Derek's neck, eyes closing with the pull of sleep.
Derek wanted to float happily within the afterglow, but he had to frown. A swell of fear and regret crept into his chest again, and he wondered if he had made a horrible mistake. Stiles thought all of this was a dream, and Derek had taken advantage of that, no matter how persuasive the boy might have been. Stiles could very well hate him for all of it in the light of day.
But, Derek decided, for tonight Stiles was safe, and his, and he just wanted to rest, hoping that somehow all the good parts of that night would still be good in the morning.
Part 2 will be from Stiles' POV the next morning. :-) Coming soon!