Title: I'd Lose Myself in You (you're my favorite addiction)
Author: verdant quest
Fandom: Teen Wolf (MTV)
Pairing/Characters: Derek/Stiles; Derek Hale; Stiles Stilinski; Scott McCall; Jackson Whittemore; Sheriff Stilinski; Allison Argent (offscreen); Danny Mahealani (offscreen)
Rating: R for language and implied sexual acts
Warnings: Underage, slash, unadulterated humor
Spoilers: S1, invisible allusions to S2
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Adderall is addictive. Teenagers are stupid. Or, the one where Derek saves Stiles from being an addict.
Author Notes: (1) Takes place in an AU season 2 where you can assume none of the action from canon season 2 has happened (other crap happened instead) and Jackson turned into a wolf.
(2) This isn't a dark fic. It's kind of the antithesis of a dark fic. Enjoy.
(3) Lydia somehow doesn't even get a passing mention. This may be a personal first. So much luv for L!
The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.
Adderall (Dextroamphetamine and Amphetamine)
The combination of dextroamphetamine and amphetamine is used as part of a treatment program to control symptoms of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD; more difficulty focusing, controlling actions, and remaining still or quiet than other people who are the same age) in adults and children ...
Adderall is addictive. This is a known fact. Teenagers are stupid. This is common wisdom.
Add Adderall + Teenager and you'll equal potentially messy results.
He hadn't meant to abuse his dosage, but sometimes taking a bit more in stress-inducing circumstances had seemed like the lesser of two evils. Especially since werewolves, hunters, and death threats had become part of his weekly routine.
The Alpha had offered him the bite. Stiles had said no at the time, but boy did he regret that now. He had a theory that if Scott could be cured of asthma by taking the bite, maybe Stile's addiction could also be cured. He wondered too, sometimes when he was particularly frustrated with his body, if ADHD could be cured by werewolf biochemistry, but he wasn't quite masochistic enough to dwell on the possibility.
Stiles hadn't avoided Derek in the weeks following his transition from beta to alpha, but he'd never been alone with the guy either. Standing on his doorstep now, without Scott, or, hell, even Jackson with him, Stiles could feel sweat gathering from anxiety—could feel, too, the almost ever-present urge to use. Forcing a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, he brought a fist up to knock.
The door opened. Derek's scowling face confronted him in the opening. Large body looming over Stiles ominously.
"What are you doing here?"
Derek's voice was rough and unwelcoming, but he hadn't outright told Stiles to get the hell off his property, which he would do if he didn't want him here. Stiles breathed out a small sigh of relief.
"Can I come in? Just for a minute, Derek?" Stiles asked politely.
Derek's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he stepped back from the entrance readily enough.
Stiles walked through and just past Derek, stepping clear so the other man could close the front door behind him. Derek threw the lock, which was…all kinds of comfortable, and then jerked his head in the direction of the living room. Stiles followed, mind racing as he tried to decide what to say.
Dropping onto the antique sofa, he stared at his shaking hands, resting against his jittering knees.
After a few moments Derek let out a low noise, not quite a growl or a preemptive throat clearing. Stiles eyes snapped up, though his head remained lowered. The submissive posture was at least partially intentional, as he was here with a request for the Alpha.
For a guy who had rarely been silent in his life, Stiles was surprisingly unable to verbalize his request. 'But maybe I should just spit it out, before Derek starts getting annoyed and decides to swat me like a fly.' And Derek's scowl had gotten more pronounced in the last few moments.
"I want you to bite me."
It sounded more real than Stiles had anticipated it would out loud.
Derek was silent, eyes narrowed again. A beat or three passed.
"Why?" he asked grimly.
Stiles felt a flush start up the sides of his face. What could he say? 'I'm an addict and I think this is an easy way out?' But was that even the case? Well…yes. Sort of. Was it the only true answer he could give? No.
"I…" Stiles swallowed thickly. "I think I…I…need it. To be a part of something. Something I can't just get out of when it's hard. And…my dad's not old, but he won't be around forever. He's the only family I have, well, he and Scott. So…"
The gaze that met Stiles's was piercing at his inquired, "Is that it?"
"No." Stiles admitted.
"If that were it, I would have been asking a while ago. It is the truth, though. I was tempted by your uncle's offer, Derek. But I didn't want him to bite me. He was sick and wrong and I didn't want to be a part of his pack. You, though, you're not that—you're a grouchy asshole a lot of the time—but you're also a good person. Most of the time anyway." Stiles added off-handedly, ignoring the other man's glare. "But…I screwed up." He involuntarily laughed, a bit hysterically. "Not unusual, I know. But this is…"
Derek's expression changed. "What. Did. You. Do?" He growled, eyes flashing red.
"Not that! Not whatever it is you're imagining." Stiles hastened to reassure him.
Derek's eyes faded to a more reasonable green slowly. "Then what?"
"I'm ADHD." Stiles started awkwardly.
"Yeah. I know." Derek said dryly, eyeing Stiles's jittering limbs.
"And I'm on Adderall to help that. So I can focus, you know?"
Derek's expression tensed, clearly no liking where this was going. "All right." He conceded.
"And I've needed to focused a lot lately. What with all the attempts on our lives and all." Stiles continued inexorably toward a confession he'd rather not share. "Not that I'm trying to excuse the decisions I made. It is my own fault—but I didn't mean for it to happen. I just…didn't notice it was happening until the damage was done, you know?"
He was on Stiles before he could say another word. Clawed hands digging painfully into Stiles's upper arms and making him gasp and wince. "You idiot! You're abusing prescription meds?" Derek yelled furiously.
Stiles gulped audibly and then sighed, defeated. "Yeah. Yes. I got addicted. I'm sorry. I know how stupid I was. Am."
Derek growled and shook him hard, then let go, turning away from Stiles. "You won't learn anything if I just take away the symptoms, Stiles."
Stiles fear ratcheted up. Derek was saying no.
"I know I made the wrong choices! I've learned that lesson, Derek. Please. I don't want to be an addict, and I do want to be more responsible. That's two reasons for me to go wolf."
The other man was still turned away from him, clearly thinking ten steps ahead. Finally he broke the silence.
"I won't do it for free. You're correct—you did screw up and you do need responsibility. But you also need discipline." Derek turned to face Stiles. "You want an easy out, and I won't give you that. I'll bite you only if you agree to complete submission. You will give up all control to me. And you will be my bitch until you have truly learned everything you need to, Stiles." He said directly.
Stiles shook, staring at Derek wide-eyed. This was not what he'd thought he was signing up for. Hell, Jackson had blackmailed Scott and Derek and Derek turned him without any bargains. Granted, Derek was doing this for Stiles's benefit, but that didn't make it any less scary. Giving up all autonomy to a guy like the Alpha. Now that was intimidation. But what was the alternative? Go home and confess his sins to his dad? Stiles pictured his father's face changing from pride, to horror and disappointment. His father, who had lost so much and now had only Stiles. No. He could never do that to him. Derek might not be an easy man, but he was fair. He would try not to hurt Stiles irrevocably. That would have to be enough.
"All right. Yes. I will submit to you, Derek."
Two nights later, Derek bit him.
Scott growled. "What the hell did you do to him?"
Derek stared back implacably. "He asked me to, Scott." He responded simply.
From his place on the camp-bed in the corner of Derek's 'bedroom,' Stiles winced. Scott's cry of rage reinforced his premonition of impending violence.
"No! Stiles said he wanted to stay human! He wouldn't have asked you to bite him." Scott declared heatedly. Stiles wanted to say that not everyone felt as though contracted lycanthropy was a tragedy, and that also, whatever he'd said, he'd always wanted it at least a little. But Derek has said to let him do the talking and not to jump in. So Stiles remained quiet.
It had been almost a full day since Derek had bitten him, but so far Derek hadn't been that demanding. Okay, so Stiles could see how an outsider might feel that Derek telling Stiles to be quiet could be construed as demanding, but Stiles felt that it was a lot less domineering than Derek had been in the months he'd known him. It was only that Stiles was obeying the instruction that was truly unusual here.
However that was mostly because up to now Stiles had been dealing with ADHD and recently also Adderall addiction. Yes, they were gone.
Never in his life had it been so easy to be silent, to be still. It was a revelation. Stiles would always be outspoken and energetic, but never again because he was unable to control his neural impulses. He was saved. And eternally grateful. So he watched his pack brother challenge their Alpha quietly.
It was an ugly scene, but it ended predictably and without major damage. Derek told Scott to go home and cool off and Scott tried to convince Stiles to come with him. Derek then threw Scott out and finally returned to where Stiles still nested.
"You did well." Derek said quietly. Stiles felt a rush of pride at his Alpha's approval and mentally squirmed at how his hind-brain had so much influence over his emotions now. Stiles would need to train himself as he had Scott. He'd add it to the agenda.
Derek eyed him thoughtfully. "How do you feel?" He asked.
"Strong. Calm. Focused." Stiles answered promptly.
"And the urge to use drugs?"
"Gone." Stiles assured him.
"Good. Now, anytime your dad refills your prescription for it, you will bring it to me. I will count the pills. Every night you will remove the prescribed dose and you will bring those pills to me. When the bottle is empty, you will give it to me and I will count the pills again and throw them out. Do you understand?"
Stiles nodded. He no longer had any urge to take the Adderall pills in his pocket, but he could see why Derek was going to do this anyway. Obediently he held out the pill bottle half-filled with medication.
Derek popped the top and poured the pills into his big palm. He counted them with faster-than-human eye scans and then poured them back into the bottle. "Bring me today's dose later."
Stiles nodded again. "I will."
"Now, where is your dad?" Derek switched gears.
Stiles shook his head. "At the precinct, I think. He said he'd be home for dinner."
Derek jerked a nod, eyes cast aside, looking faraway.
"Okay. Go home now. Clean up, make supper. I'll be by around eight. Do your homework and text me if something comes up." Stiles agreed with a nod of his own and surged obediently to his feet.
He headed down the stairs at above human speed. Nabbing his sneakers from the entryway and pulling them on without wobbling even as he opened the front door and headed down the drive. For the first time he ran through the woods all the way home.
Sheriff Stilinski came into his house to appetizing smells and the raucous techno music of his son's generation. A "Hey, Dad!" was yelled over the din from the kitchen. "Hey, kid. Smells great in here." He returned even as he switched off the noise his son insisted was good music.
Walking into the kitchen he was surprised by the precision of his always and eternally clumsy only offspring's movements. Stiles was cooking like he was a professional chef, tossing a skillet with his wrist to shift the ingredients within.
"Should I even ask?" He wondered aloud.
Stiles threw him a laughing smile over one shoulder and ignored the small dig. "Oh, I've been training for Lacrosse with Scott, Jackson, and Danny." Stiles began without any segue whatsoever.
"I think I might be off the bench next term."
Shocked, but pleased he came forward to cuff Stiles gently. "That's great! Finally found a way around that mental block, huh?"
Stiles grinned sideways. "Yeah."
In light of recent events, Stiles had taken to leaving his bedroom window partially ajar. Considering most of his guests preferred that method of entrance over doors, it was only practical. And of course now he could see the appeal firsthand, except for how he'd promised Derek to stay in and wait for him tonight.
In a baggie, on the edge of his desk, with today's date scribbled on it was today's dose of Adderall.
He'd completed his homework, had showered and changed, and had cooked dinner and chatted with his dad. He was prepared. And inexplicably nervous. Probably because Derek hadn't said why he was coming be tonight.
Stiles was reading an article on pack behavior when he heard—heard! He'd never heard Derek enter his window before—the window slide up and Derek slip over the ledge.
"Hey." Stiles offered weakly. Derek didn't bother to answer, which was typical. He noted the pill baggie and his eyes gleamed with approval. Stiles was certain that when Derek left the bag would be tucked into his pocket without Stiles needing to say anything. It would be a kindness, not forcing Stiles to submit overtly.
Derek walked to the door and stood in front of it to listen. The Sheriff was watching a baseball game in the living room. It must be almost over. Stiles knew his father would stay up to read reports for another couple of hours and then would go to bed.
As if reading his mind, Derek said, "Go to bed now. I'll be back later." He was out the window and gone before Stiles even absorbed the order. The pill bag was gone too.
Hands were shaking him. Stiles's sleep-fogged brain could tell that, though not the whys and wherefores. He fought to wake up and stared in confusion at Derek. "What?"
The other man had stripped down to his boxers and was under the covers with Stiles. The alarm clock on his bedside table was displaying midnight in a faint electronic glow that Stiles never would have noticed before going wolf. His dad was certainly in bed by now. Derek, he dimly noted, was working Stiles's shirt up his torso and then pulling it over his head and down his arms.
Puzzled, but unable to work up much curiosity Stiles allowed the removal of his pajama pants with equal aplomb. Derek hadn't answered him, but then Stiles had promised to obey Derek without question. Complete submission.
And then Stiles felt the heat of Derek's cock through his boxers against Stiles's hip.
Submission. There were multiple definitions of the word, but until this moment Stiles had interpreted it as letting Derek make all the decisions and not fighting him on the implementation of those plans. More fool him.
Stiles couldn't say that Derek had lied or misled him. He'd warned Stiles that he wasn't doing this for free, that Stiles would be his bitch. And, oh. Didn't that make for a new spin on things. And it would be that way until Derek had taught him everything he, Derek, thought Stiles should know, which wasn't the same as until Stiles learned to respect his body and not to do drugs, etc. Not even close. It could mean anything, really.
In other words, until Derek was tired of Stiles, Stiles would obey him and sexually service him. 'Oh.'
Derek's hands were hot and demanding as he slid down the younger man's waist and hips, guiding Stiles where he wanted him. Derek ran a thumb over Stiles's bottom lip and gently pushed his head toward his boxer-covered dick.
One plus about being a werewolf was the superfast healing. His throat and jaw felt totally fine today.
Not that Derek had hurt him. He just wasn't used to utilizing that part of his body that way.
And Derek had gotten him off afterward too, so at least he'd gotten something out of losing his virginity. Or, well, something else. The blowjob had been kind of sexy and fun. Surprisingly so.
Stiles was pretty sure that regular blowjobs were on the agenda, but also that, if they were, it was okay by him. It might be good for Derek to have regular sex; the guy was just a little too uptight normally. That the sex would be provided him by Stiles was disconcerting, awkward, and sort-of a turn-on. Also, maybe a source of pride. Stiles's inner-wolf was excited by the prospect of pleasing his Alpha, and by being the one chosen to please him. Yeah. Inner Stiles was totally rolling on his back, exposing his stomach and neck at the mere thought.
Jackson's nose twitched comically.
"Dude. Is Derek dicking you?" He accused crassly.
Stiles sighed; glad for once that Allison was such an effective distraction for Scott that he hadn't had to have a similar conversation with him.
Stiles shrugged. "You've got a nose. Take it up with the Alpha if you want to know more."
Jackson raised one eyebrow. "Fair enough."
Fortunately that was the end of that conversation.
The moment Stiles stepped into Hale house, Derek was on him, greedily kissing his way into Stiles's mouth and pawing at him through his clothes. Evidently, finally breaking the dry spell had put Derek's libido into overdrive. Or, alternatively, having Derek's scent on him made Stiles irresistible to the Alpha. And possibly it was a combination of the two.
Derek's 'bitch' lost the rest of his virginity that afternoon and learned more about werewolf physiology than he'd ever thought to know. Being knotted and bred for over an hour did that to a guy.
He'd also learned that Derek was a biter. The bite on his shoulder was the deepest, and had happened mid-orgasm. Derek had spent most of their post-coital knotting licking at the bite.
The whole experience had been strange, but oddly satisfying. His wolf was positively smug. Sex with Derek had been pretty awesome. Stiles wouldn't complain about replicating the experience in the future. Not at all. He'd come three times that afternoon alone. If this was the standard, Stiles might never need to beat off again.
Scott and Jackson showing up killed the mood. As did Scott's hissy fit. Jackson had just sat next to Stiles and watched the fight. He bumped Stiles's shoulder with his own companionably. "So….tell me I'm your favorite, Mom." He suggested as they watched Derek take Scott down a peg or three.
At Stiles's understandably blank look, Jackson sighed. "He mated you. You know that you're our pack leader's mate, right?" He explained in a 'Fuck, this dude is dumb' tone of voice.
Stiles may have meeped. Just a little.
"So, Mom…how about it?"