A/N: This was going to be a one-shot sequel to I Have To Mark You Mine but it obviously isn't now. I have no plot as such, more I aim to add further chapters spotlighting moments in family and pack life as I'm inspired.


Stiles isn't entirely sure how he got into this. Well, yeah, he knows that it was what he wanted but, like, times three? He's trying to shove dirty clothes into the washer with one hand while holding Chloe – who's wailing like it's the end of the world or something - on his hip with the other. The boys are in a play pen for now. Sooner or later, if he doesn't keep an eye on them, they'll get out and wreak havoc on the house. He's seen it with his own eyes, there is truly no more devastating force on earth than two 18 month old weretoddlers. Seriously, the DOD should just come see him for advice on how to capture this whirlwind of destruction and bottle it. They could start breeding camps and the image of row upon row of tiny growling cubs crawling inexorably towards a limitless, sunshine-drenched horizon pops into his head.

"Whoa!" Now he knows he needs to take a break. How much sleep has he had? Not much over three hours last night and little more the night before. Stiles wipes his free hand across his brow as he straightens up. He sets the controls of the washer and turns it on. It judders into life and the slow rumblings of the spinning drum permeate the utility room.

Chloe is still bawling so he lifts her from his hip and sits her on top of the washer. The vibrations cause her to hitch a breath in her crying as she absorbs this strange new sensation.

He bends down, face level with hers. "Hey, little girl, what's up with you?"

He's already done a sense check and he knows it's not nappy change time, she's only been awake after her nap a little more than an hour and she's fed, so that's not it. He suspects that one of her brothers may be the cause. Lord knows they're as rough with her as they are with each other. Not that she doesn't give back as good as she gets but Chloe can get a bit ruffled if she's taken by surprise.

The crying's mostly stopped now, just little hic-cups of outrage left to play out. Stiles is pretty sure she likes the noise and motion of the washer. From nowhere, his brain spits out a memory of his Dad telling him that his Mom used to put his Moses basket on the washer when he was a baby; it was the only thing that would lull him to sleep.

Stiles feels sad for a moment that his Mom never got to see her grandchildren. At least though, he never had to have that conversation with her. Grandchildren and werebabies are not two words you ever want to have to say in a sentence to your parents.

Chloe's chuckling now, bouncing a little, she says "Da" and reaches out her chubby little arms towards Stiles for a cuddle. Just as he goes to pick her up he hears the tell-tale signs of an escape attempt from the family room behind him. He's got Chloe on his hip again and he's just about to go and read the riot act to his sons when the front door slams. In the time it takes him to reach the doorway Derek has scooped up both cubs, one under each arm and has found him in the utility room.

"Hey", says Derek, leaning in for a quick kiss, "I couldn't get the juice they like so I just got more milk instead. This one..." and he lifts his right arm slightly indicating Lucas, the bigger and more adventurous of the boys "...was just about to climb up the bookcase."

"I know", says Stiles, "I was on my way to sort him out. We need a stronger containment area; it's no good if I can't leave them alone for five minutes."

Derek fights to hold the two squirming children apart. The third triplet, Alexander, is clawing at his brother, angry that he got left behind and partly wolfing out because of it. Stiles thinks again that there is no cuter thing than a werecub that can't control its shift. Little bits change at different times, sometimes it's just the teeth and claws – although the cubs' milk teeth don't change into anything as deadly as a full grown were's fangs, they just get a little more pointy. Sometimes the cubs just get furrier, particularly when they're content. Stiles couldn't believe it the first time he saw this happen. He was nursing Alex, who'd been fed and he was rocking him to sleep when the 6 week old sighed, rolled in his arms and grew a full covering of baby-soft dark brown fur. Stiles stared transfixed, slowly stroking the velvety pelt of his son until the child slipped into a deep sleep where the shift reversed and the fur shrank away to leave him human looking again.

Derek growls at the smaller boy, the sort of sub-vocal sound that can only be heard by other wolves. The child stiffens immediately and shifts back to human, a small pout on his lips, a bawl only a slight way behind. Alex catches sight of his father in front of him and like Chloe earlier, stretches out towards Stiles, knowing that Daddy is a much softer target than Dad who seems really cross with him at the moment. Derek transfers his son into the other man's free arm and ushers them all out into the family room. Stiles sits down on the sofa with his family and silently gives thanks for Derek – he couldn't do it without him. He wouldn't be doing it at all if it wasn't for him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Stiles started to get broody early, before graduation really. He seemed magnetically drawn to babies and ended up being the default sitter for Danny's older sister. Derek could see how much he craved kids of his own but still put his foot down and insisted, no children before college. Stiles couldn't see what the problem was, he was claimed and mated and he wanted to enjoy his kids' childhood while he was young, fit and willing. Derek rather brusquely told him that 4 years wouldn't make that much of a difference and besides, they needed time to work out how they were going to have children.

Stiles accepted the restrictions; after all, it wasn't like he could get pregnant, although he was certainly willing to give it a good try. They discussed adoption, surrogates and even considered asking Allison or Lydia to carry a child for them but ultimately they decided to keep it outside of the pack, it wouldn't have been fair on either of the girls.

After much discussion they chose to try and find a female wolf to carry a cub for them. Even though it would be easier to find a human, Derek naturally wanted the maximum chance of another generation of wolves and surprisingly, Stiles found that he wanted that too. They'd argued endlessly over who would genetically father the child, both insisting the other one take the honour. Finally, after much sulking on Stiles' side, they elected to both provide semen during the bitch's heat, leaving the final conception to chance. There was even more than a fifty per cent chance that Stiles could father a wolf with a born female.

In the end an unmated female beta from a New York pack stepped forward. The pack was one Derek had spent some time with and was well established with a surplus of females unlikely to breed their own cubs anytime soon.

In the spring of Stiles' last year of college, the pair travelled to New York to prepare to meet the surrogate, Tanya. She was a cheerful, energetic girl, third daughter of the resident alpha. Derek and Stiles took her out for dinner and they talked about her reasons for volunteering. She loved children and spent lots of time with her nephews and nieces but with the chances of mating slim for her at the moment, she wanted an opportunity to get her first litter bred. It was also, she conceded, a smart move politically to forge an alliance with a pack from the West Coast.

Stiles was particularly taken with Tanya, she shared some of his geekier interests and he loved how she wouldn't be pushed around. It was important to him that his kids were strong emotionally; he knew the were-genes would take care of the physical strength. It didn't take much for Derek to agree either. He'd stayed with this pack for nearly half a year and he already knew her slightly, he approved of her lineage and he appreciated her motives.

Stiles and Derek flew back to California after a week. Derek was quite glad that the flight was choppy and the seatbelt sign stayed on for most of the flight. If not, he was fairly convinced that Stiles would have dragged him into the tiny bathroom to attempt to join the mile high club. Stiles was just that stoked that it was all starting to happen and a happy Stiles was a horny Stiles.

Just short of three months later, they received the phone call they had been expecting for a few weeks now. Tanya was due to go into heat within the next week. Derek and Stiles packed a bag each and drove straight to the airport to catch the first available flight east.

They booked into an anonymous but reasonable hotel, requesting two rooms adjacent. The pack alpha had offered to host them but Stiles was a bit squicked out about the whole producing sperm thing under another alpha's roof. There wasn't really much of a plan, as soon as Tanya's heat hit, she would join them in the other room with her sisters, Derek and Stiles would provide the seed and using the time honoured turkey-baster method, everything should be good to go.

"Oh God, Derek", shouted Stiles from the bathroom, "I have never felt less sexy in my entire life."

He was having trouble getting in the right mood, sat on the toilet lid, lube, tissues and a small sealable container to his right on the top of the vanity unit. He couldn't recall a time ever when his dick had failed to co-operate. Jesus, half the time at school he was sporting a semi. This, though, was different, this was masturbation for procreation and the mindset that usually engendered a rush of blood to Stiles' happy bits was sadly absent.

Derek appeared in the bathroom doorway, leaning one arm on the frame. He surveyed the hapless inhabitant. Stiles sat, pants round his ankles, cock slack and floppy between his opened legs and with the most dejected expression Derek had ever seen him wear. Derek almost had to duck to avoid the waves of stress and despair emanating from Stiles, his emotions were that palpable.

"It's OK, you know, we have several days."

"I don't think I'm ever going to come again", wailed Stiles. "My dick hates me!"

"Why don't we give it a rest for now; go out, get something to eat and see what happens later." Derek crossed the bathroom and pulled Stiles to his feet. "I wasn't having much luck either."

"Show me your abs", demanded Stiles, pawing at Derek's shirt. "They always get me hot. I think I've lost my super sexy mojo and if your abs can't raise a smile then it must be true."

Derek swatted his hand away. "You'll be fine; you just need to stop thinking about it for a while."

Two hours later the pair returned to their room having grabbed a bite to eat. Derek had resolutely refused to discuss the situation over their meal and now the atmosphere was less strained even though Derek swore he could see the elephant in the room out of the corner of his eye every time he turned his head a bit quickly. He'd concentrated on setting Stiles at his ease, being attentive and feeding Stiles small mouthfuls all the way through dinner. Afterwards they strolled slowly back through the city streets to the hotel hand in hand.

Derek pushed the door shut behind them and moved to catch Stiles shoulder to turn him round. With his other hand he reached round Stiles neck and pulled him close, letting their lips gently touch. Softly he pulled at Stiles lip until Stiles got in the game and returned the kiss. Many minutes they stood there exchanging the gentlest of kisses, barely any pressure, just the caress of one pair of lips upon another.

Eventually Derek lost sense of the sour scent of misery that had been emanating from Stiles all evening, in its place the more familiar spicy aroma of arousal and want. He pushed Stiles towards the bed until there was no choice but for Stiles to sit down, Derek crouched down in front of him. Once seated, Derek unfastened and removed Stiles pants and underwear all the while keeping the constant touch of the kisses alive.

Stiles sat back, leaning on his hands as Derek unclothed him, hitching his hips up slightly as Derek pulled off his pants. Derek softly ran his hand up Stiles' cock. It twitched and grew under the attention.

"See", Derek said, "It was just the pressure of the moment." He encased the now turgid member in his hand and concentrated on it. This was always one of his favourite moments, the way he could control Stiles' arousal. He looked down to see Stiles' cock sitting prettily in his grasp; the head dark and shiny, the shaft pulsing lightly, growing ever more hard and full. The only time it ever looked better was when it was in his mouth or when he was prepping Stiles and it stood stiff and proud, leaking dribbles that told Derek that Stiles wanted him and only him. Derek couldn't help it, he took it into his mouth, licking around the base of the head and gently sucking.

Stiles moaned, long and raw, the sound that always made Derek shiver in anticipation of watching his mate come undone. He'd had a vague plan of making them both come together but now all he wanted to see was Stiles fall apart, he did it so beautifully. Derek shifted slightly so he could take in more of Stiles' cock, teeth scraping lightly down the shaft as he enveloped it.

One of Stiles' hands came forward to grip the back of Derek's head, fingers slipping through the dark strands of his hair. Derek swallowed, taking Stiles in to the base. Derek nuzzled his nose against the faint musk of Stiles' groin, he felt Stiles' stomach muscles contract as he sucked at his prize, Stiles wouldn't last much longer now.

After a few slow journeys up and down, sucking and licking, Derek pulled away. He continued to pump with one hand while he reached across to grab the plastic container. Without taking any attention from Stiles he mouthed the lid off the pot and held it ready.

Stiles was panting now, eyes closed and mouth gaping, completely lost to the moment. Derek loved to see this. He leaned forward and bit gently at Stiles' throat, sucking at the warm skin, feeling the softness at Stiles most vulnerable place. The little gasps Stiles was making indicated to Derek with his encyclopaedic knowledge of Stiles' body language and sounds that his release would be momentary.

Derek sat back, away from Stiles' neck now and placed the plastic pot over the head of Stiles' cock while he worked his hand up and down, rubbing his thumb across and over the head. He watched as Stiles lost himself to the sensations, head lolling and breath short. Stiles stiffened in his body but all his facial muscles relaxed. Just at the point of coming, he opened his eyes and looked straight into Derek's. His mouth formed an 'Oh' of wonderment and he came, spurting hard and strong right into the container. So hard that some of Stiles' cum bounced right out again, landing on his thigh. Derek leant down and licked it off, there was plenty already in the pot.

Stiles leaned back, sated, reclining on his elbows.

"Hey!" Derek nudged him. "I can do this myself but it would be much better if you did it for me."

"Huh?" groaned Stiles.

Derek nodded his head down, indicating his own tumescence, still held tight inside his jeans.

"Oh", said Stiles, smirking, "That..."

Derek stood up and shucked off his clothing, he couldn't wait for Stiles to undress him, time was critical now. He climbed over Stiles and onto the bed as Stiles ran his hands over Derek's body as it moved across him. With a huge grin Stiles dipped his head and licked the tip of Derek's cock, tracing the curves and contours.

"Here", Derek gave him the pot. "Eat me then rub me, don't take your time, I don't need it, I want to come now."

Stiles gripped the container, careful to keep the contents from spilling. With his other hand he took an equally firm grip on the base of Derek's shaft, dropping his head to take it into the soft cavern of his mouth.

Derek hissed as he felt the first sucking sensation on his taut skin. "Harder", he gritted out. "Talk to me", he pleaded. Stiles grunted in disbelief, even he found it hard to chat with his face stuffed full of cock. To appease Derek, Stiles gave one last long slow suck on the burgeoning member and then pulled his questing mouth away. He sat back on his haunches right between Derek's legs.

Stiles contemplated his mate as Derek lay spread-eagled below him; face screwed up in what Stiles would call his pissy-face if he didn't know that, in this situation, it meant that Derek was aroused beyond belief.

"I love you like this", Stiles told him. "I love you underneath me, in my control."

Stiles ran one hand up and down Derek, slick now with pre-cum, twisting slightly and gripping hard.

"I love the feel of your cock in my hand, so hot and smooth. I love it when it jerks and twitches for me. I love feeling you get so tight I think you're going to burst. You are going to burst for me, aren't you Derek? You're going to burst all over me, any second now..."

Derek could do nothing but gasp stuttering breaths. When Stiles really used his words, there was nothing more sinfully arousing.

Stiles reached below with his other hand and cupped Derek's balls, he traced the seam between them with his thumb.

"And I love these. I love sucking them, I want to put them in my mouth right now and lick over each one."

Derek knew exactly how that felt and imagining Stiles' soft mouth encasing his balls sent him convulsing into a shuddering orgasm. Stiles lifted the pot and with unusual dexterity directed and caught the streams of cum as they spurted out and away from Derek.

"There", he said soothingly, "isn't that better?"

"Quick", hissed Derek, "Take it next door, I can't move."

Stiles pouted. "No, don't make me, it's too embarrassing."

"Go!"

Stiles slipped the lid onto the container of precious fluid. He scrambled into a pair of track suit bottoms and a t-shirt and casting a glance back at Derek prone on the bed exited the room. The two doors were right next to each other, the female wolves must have sensed what was going on in the next room. Stiles blushed, the rosy glow spreading down from his cheeks. He rapped quietly on the door adjacent to his own.

Almost immediately the door opened and the wolf he recognised as Tanya's middle sister smiled at him and took the pot out of his hands. "Thanks", she said. He looked beyond her, into the room, Tanya's oldest sister stood waiting, grinning widely and armed with a turkey baster.

Stiles swallowed and ducked back.

"OK, I'll just go while you...er...get on with things there and, um, this is me going, bye..."

Stiles ran back into his own room and fell onto the bed next to Derek.

"I'm never basting meat again, no more roasts, ever!" he said emphatically.

Derek laughed and pulled him over into a warm hug, he slid his hand up Stiles' back underneath his t-shirt.

"This is how it was supposed to happen", he breathed into Stiles' neck. "Not from sitting alone in a bathroom but from passion and love. When I first see our children, I want to be able to remember how you looked when you gave their seed up to me.

"We're going to have the best children", muttered Stiles. "They'll be brilliant and strong, smart and brave and most of all, they'll be loved. Loved by us and loved by their pack, they're going to have so much love in their world. And we'll nurture and teach them and we'll be so proud of them because they're going to achieve things but most of all simply because they're our kids, our cubs."

Eight months later – because a lycan gestation, much like the rest of their biology, is so much faster than a human's - Stiles stared wondrously as a small pink bundle was handed to him. He pulled down the blanket partly covering the cub's face and gazed into his daughter's eyes, wide and brown, just like her father's. Next to him, equally floored and amazed, Derek cradled their two sons close to his body. Derek never thought he'd feel anything stronger than the mate bond but looking down into the tiny faces of these new creatures, he knew his world had just changed irrevocably.