Enjoy the last chapter!

Scott had covered for Stiles' two day absence with a camping excuse. That's right, those crazy hunters had them for two fucking whole days, forty eight hours. Stiles and Derek were taken Friday after school and they had managed to break out on Sunday evening. No wonder Stiles felt exhausted.

Scott told his dad that Isaac and Stiles had gone exploring slash camping. It was Spring break so even though his dad was pissed that Stiles hadn't told him himself, or made the camping plans ahead of time, he was mostly off the hook since he didn't have to go to school.

The pack was coming over Monday for a celebratory sleepover, with a movie and snacks and everything, but right now Stiles enjoyed his peace and quiet. It was surreal to be back at home, safe, while only a few hours ago, he was locked in a room, frightened every time that door opened. It was the little, every day things that were bothering him: the darkened hallway, the curtains moving in the breeze, and especially when his dad burst into his room without knocking. Stiles was on edge, hyper-vigilant and hypersensitive. If his dad noticed the change, he didn't say anything.

He lounged on his bed, front side pressing down into his comforter, reading the graphic novel version of The Odyssey while he drank some black tea, loaded down with sugar and cream. When he was boiling the water, he tried not to flinch when the stove's pilot light clicked, but it sounded like the electric current in a cattle prod.

He could get the caffeine from almost anything, soda, coffee, chocolate, but he chose the tea because he wanted the taste, a reminder that he was home. Black tea with the fixings always reminded him of early mornings in the kitchen with his mom or late afternoons with a book. It was as comforting as the smell of pages from a book or the soft whirl of the fan on his lap top. It was comforting and something that Stiles desperately needed right now.

He enjoyed reading this comic even though Odysseus was always in deep shit. The guy would always defeat a monster or complete a difficult task, but then something even worse would happen. Sometimes he felt like Odysseus; this supernatural shit never seemed to quit in Beacon Hills and Stiles always seemed to be right in the middle of it. It was like he was living on the Hellmouth.

A breeze stirred the curtains and Stiles flinched when a pair of boots attached to a pair of legs, and a dark body slid in through the window. Once he realized that it was Derek, his racing heart calmed. Stiles kept his eyes on the other man's face and scooched over on the bed, silently inviting him to join him. The werewolf looked over at him, taking in his silent demeanor and shrugged off his jacket, toed off his boots and sat down on the bed next to him. When Derek lay down next to him, Stiles moved the book so they both could read it.

This was good. It was quiet and he was hanging out with Derek. He was still trying to get his mind over the fact that he enjoyed hanging out with Derek Hale. Their friendship started out on the wrong foot and it was mostly Stiles' fault. He was man enough and humble enough to confess that if he hadn't gotten so involved in the werewolf's business and allowed Derek to be a role model to Scott without him interfering, then maybe they would have been friends earlier on. He also hinder their friendship with a couple pesky accusations of murder, whoops. Water under the bridge now.

Moving past their unfortunate first few months of their relationship, Stiles thought he could say with confidence that they were friends. Yes, Derek still made stupid decisions that annoyed and frustrated Stiles, and in turn, he could admit that his constant chatter and disregard for authority drove Derek to be aggressive and reckless. Even so, they had some sort of shaky truce that turned into a grudging alliance that developed into a friendship. Yeah, that still fought and got on each other's nerves, but friendships aren't perfect.

He trusted Derek. He trusted Derek like he trusted Scott, and maybe when dealing with monsters and witches and hunters, he trusted Derek more than Scott. Not to bash on his bestie, but Scott was always with Allison, leaving him and Derek to deal with the new monster in town. Because of this, the duo was always saving each others asses and therefore, trust and bonding.

He found himself thinking about Derek a lot, thinking of funny things to tell him and seeing things that reminded Stiles of the grumpy werewolf. He also found himself turning to him for advice and when he felt insecure or upset, turning to him for comfort. His hugs were warm and his presence at night chased off nightmares. It was a funny realization. With everything that Derek has done for him, how could he not grow some fondness for the constipated werewolf?

Fully distracted now and unable to focus on the story, Stiles bookmarked the page and closed the book, pushing it off the bed as he rolled onto his back to stretch.

His whole body ached. Luckily Derek healed all his cuts, but he still had a lot of deep tissue bruising that wasn't going to get better soon. He would be sporting these nasty bruises for about a week before they stopped being tender and would begin to fade. He moved his arms above his head, pushing, pulling, stretching the stiff muscles in his arms, chest and legs. Finally resting, he relaxed his body and lay still, watching Derek watch him.

Moving slowly, and with no surprise to Stiles, Derek leaned over and rubbed his face in the teenager's neck. Stiles moved his hand to cup the back of Derek's head while he stretched his neck out more, arching with invitation. Derek grumbled in appreciation and moved faster, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' throat.

It was delightful but ended too soon. Derek pulled away reluctantly, his eyes guilty.

Derek wanted to keep going, he wanted to saturate Stiles in his scent so much that no one would doubt that the teenager was his. He wanted the boy to be his and was so easy to do when Stiles crooned and arched and bared his neck to him. It was more than just showing submission to the alpha, no, Stiles went beyond that. If he was just showing submission, he would tilt his head or bare his neck for only a moment, long enough for him to acknowledge his dominance. Stiles however, was doing so much more. Stiles was doing what a bitch did to her mate. He was asking for Derek to mark him, telling him that he would belong to him if he asked.

Derek had already asked. He asked when he bit and licked and rubbed his scent into Stiles, longer than what he would do to one of his betas. Stiles unknowingly accepted by whimpering like a pup and arching and stretching his neck out further. His wolf already thought of Stiles as his own and he was not happy that Derek was trying to pull away and back off of the human.

That's why the hunters had targeted Stiles specifically. They knew, most likely through observation, that Derek thought of Stiles as his. It was obvious that they had some sort of special bond once they were held prisoner together. Their reactions could have been seen as something an alpha and human beta would do anyway, but because they had been watching Stiles, scouting his behavior and reaction, they knew that he and Stiles had a special bond, more so than an ordinary beta.

With their special bond, Derek felt even more guilty that he was taking advantage of Stiles. Stiles didn't really know what he was doing; if he really knew, Derek was afraid that he would pull away and be frightened. That was the last thing Derek wanted Stiles to be, frightened of him, but it felt like he was lying if he kept this to himself.

Maybe if he could keep Stiles away, Stiles would first of all, be much safer, but also he wouldn't be committing himself to unknown relationships.

They were too close. His wolf wanted Stiles so badly that it hurt but human Derek thought Stiles deserved better. The teenager needed to find a nice human to distract him and settle down with. He would be safe. Derek would suffer from the loss but eventually he would get over it, especially if he knew that Stiles was safe and happy. Over time, his wolf would stop craving for Stiles' scent. Finding another someone to love would be hard and it might not even happen but he needed to do this. He needed to keep Stiles safe from harm.

"What?" Stiles questioned.

"What?" Derek echoed, seeming confused.

"What's the matter? You have that face,"

Derek opened his mouth to protest but then decided maybe he could confess partial truths. He would tell Stiles, even if it meant Stiles being angry or not wanting to hang out anymore. He deserved the truth even though it would hurt both of them.

"You keep getting hurt," Derek confessed, "because of the pack,"

Stiles blinked owlishly for a moment.

"So? It happens,"

"Exactly, it happens when you hang out with werewolves, with the pack,"

Stiles was quick to connect the dots.

"Are you kicking me out of the pack?" his voice was hitched as he circled his fingers around Derek's bicep. Derek could smell the panic rising like the tide at the beach. His wolf pushed at the corners of his mind, howling to stop this, to stop these words and thoughts that were causing pain to their human.

Stiles' eyes implored him, and Derek, feeling guilty, looked away and sat up, running his hands through his hair and over his face, as if it were possible to rub away the worry and tiredness. He could feel Stiles' hand reluctantly slip off his arm. If he could, if he didn't feel so god damned guilty and responsible, he would clasp Stiles' hand to his arm, and beg him never to let go; but he couldn't. It was his fault Stiles got hurt. This always happened and the knowledge that it was his fault made his chest ache, although not an uncommon feeling for him, it still hurt.

Stiles thought he was trying to kick him out of the pack, like it was his choice to decide who was in the pack and who wasn't. Well, in a way, he did have that power, but not over Stiles. Not because he was human, or weak, like Stiles thought. Rather quite the opposite: Stiles had gotten under his skin and buried deep past all his defenses. The kid was kind and all kinds of crazy brave. His heroism has saved the pack, saved Derek, on more than one occasion. Derek could never kick him out of the pack because he was so ingrained as a pack member, that it would be like ripping apart the pack. He was the pack. Without him, there would be no pack.

Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position too, folding his legs underneath him and clasping his hands tightly in his lap. He looked insecure and hurt.

"No," Derek said finally and tried not to notice how Stiles' shoulders seemed to sag with relief. "I just think that," he paused, trying to come up with the right words, "that we-, you should take a break from the pack," he cringed when it sounded like a bad break up excuse.

Stiles stiffened and Derek could smell the irritation and anger wafting off his lithe form.

"What? What? You think I need to take a break from the pack?" Derek could hear how bad that sounded and opened his mouth to correct his words, but Stiles didn't give him a chance.

"You think I need to take a break because, because I got hurt? What? Derek, that is so stupid. Did you think that if I stopped coming to the meetings and trainings, that I wouldn't be involved anymore?" Yes, that's exactly what Derek thought. Stiles continued, furious, "You do realize that my best friend is still part of the pack and I would still get involved through him, right? And I hang out with the pack at school. If I took a break, I wouldn't have friends," he eyes looked wild as he gestured quickly through the air.

"Plus, lets not forget that even without the pack, I get in enough trouble. Even before being in the pack, I was always getting in trouble, so don't think this would help me stay safe. It would just make me lose all my friends and when I did get in trouble, no one would be able to come and help me out," he was practically panting when he finished and Derek looked contrite.

"I just want you to be safe," Derek mumbled, looking away, an obvious sign of guilt.

Stiles took back his previous thoughts, he wasn't Odysseus, Derek was. He kept trying to do the right thing, get out of the messes, but all the bad shit seems to happen to him. Kate, the fire, Laura, some hooligan teenagers (cough, cough) always trying to get him arrested, the kanima, rouge hunters and a whole slew of bad ideas and bad karma. Right now he was trying to convince Stiles to stay away because he was, what? Human? Vulnerable? He was trying to do the right thing but the shit always got messed up. He was dealt a really bad hand of cards.

"You can't protect me from life, Der," Stiles softened his voice, "bad things are going to happen, and I might get hurt, but that's life. We can do everything we can to protect ourselves, but if the pack is split apart, it would be the worse thing to do. Someone once said that, it's less about what we do during the bad times, but more about what we do afterwards, that define us. We'll get through this, we always do, but don't make me leave the pack, please. I don't know what I would do without my friends... without you,"

Derek looked up sharply at that, his expression unreadable.

"Please," Stiles said, not quite knowing what he was asking for. His eyes darted between Derek's eyes and his mouth. He didn't realize how close they were sitting until he focused and could feel Derek's breath on his cheek.

Derek nodded mutely, watching him with hurt eyes. Stiles so badly wanted to make that hurt go away. The thought of losing the pack sent shards of pain through his heart. He thought that he just might be in love with this stupid werewolf.

He leaned forward slightly, his mouth only inches away from Derek. He paused; he didn't want to force Derek to do anything, especially this; Stiles wanted Derek to choose, he wouldn't take away his choices, like the rest of the world did to him.

He could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears. His eyes were half closed, looking out at Derek's lips.

Maybe Derek didn't feel the same way about him that he felt for him. The thought made it hard to breathe. If Derek didn't feel the same way, maybe Stiles would have to take a break from the pack, if only to get over his heart break.

After a painfully long pause in which Stiles thought Derek was going to pull away, the werewolf did the opposite, leaning in slightly and slanting their lips together.

Given permission, Stiles rested his hands on Derek's biceps and allowed Derek to lead the kiss. At first, it was just dry, careful, chaste presses of lips, but Stiles or Derek, or whomever was leading this show, started to gain a little confidence, moving their lips more sensually against the other's.

Stiles was feeling overwhelmed and excited. He didn't know what he was doing because of his lack of experience but he liked to think that he was a fast learner. Derek seems completely oblivious to Stiles' lack of skill and only pressed himself closer to Stiles.

When he could feel Derek's tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and he opened his lips obligingly and allowed him entrance. Derek's mouth was hot and open over his. Stiles felt Derek's tongue lick and slid against his own then his teeth bit at his lips, his jaw, down his neck, then back up.

Oh my god Derek was a good kisser and Stiles was washed away with the feeling of Derek's tongue and lips and hands on his shoulders and face. It was heady and passionate and they were only kissing.

Feeling confident, he tugged Derek's lower lip between his teeth and Derek moaned. Moaned. Derek moaned at something Stiles did. It was a heady rush to know that he could affect someone else so easily.

Stiles began kissing him with vigor, lips, tongue and sometimes teeth. It was amazing. He wanted more. No, he needed more.

Stiles pulled Derek on top of him and willingly spread his legs to fit Derek a little better.

"Stiles," Derek moaned, sounded wrecked as he began to use his teeth and lips to mark his skin.

Stiles moved slowly, unwilling to spook Derek. Carefully, he slide his fingers up underneath the hem of his tee-shirt, tracing his finger tips over his sides, clenching back muscles and abdomen.

When Derek bit a more tender spot behind his ear, Stiles gripped Derek with splayed fingers, arching and pushing his hips up to meet Derek's.

And oh my. Derek was hard. His hard length pressed against his jeans, pressing against Stiles' own, very hard dick. Stiles pulled Derek down more firmly on top of him so he could feel Derek pressing against him. His skin was tingling and sensitive.

They kissed, moving with languity, lips moving carefully. Stiles felt Derek's tongue push past the seam of his lips and Stiles eagerly met his tongue with his own.

Derek's coarse thumb traced the edge of Stiles' pants. His skin feeling so sensitive, his stomach muscles contracted and he gasped, sucking the air from Derek's mouth, into his own mouth. Derek stilled over him, and after a moments pause, did it again. Stiles gasped and bucked his hips.

"Please," he begged, "please," he needed more.

Stiles whimpered when Derek pulled back, clawing at his shoulders to stay on top of him. Instead of getting up and leaving, like Stiles thought, Derek stayed hovered over Stiles but moved to open Stiles' button and zipper.

Stiles watched, mouth a gap, as Derek pulled his zipper down, freeing his painfully hard dick from his boxers.

Shushing him with a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, Derek pulled back again to watch Stiles' face as he palmed Stiles' teenager griped Derek's shoulders.

"Derek," he whimpered.

Needing no more invitation, Derek pushed Stiles' jeans and boxers down to his knees and did the same for his pants.

Stiles watched Derek is awe, first there was tanned, jutting hip bones, then a nest of dark hair, then a thick, red, wet cock.

Later he would think how uncomfortable it was to have his pants around his knees, I mean, why not just take them off all the way? Is there some sort of rush that makes it more time efficient to leave them half on? Oh, right. Stiles didn't fucking care because Derek Hale was in bed with him, touching him, licking him, and doing all sorts of crazy things to his body and his nerves. It felt amazing.

Derek grabbed Stiles' dick and slide his hand up and down, tugging mercifully with his dry palm; it hurt, but it also felt so good. Watching with lust heavy eye lids, he whimpered and moaned, not really knowing if they were pleasure sounds, pain sounds or a little of both.

"Lube?" Derek asked, his voice deep and wrecked.

"Drawer," Stiles gulped, and managed to point to the bedside table. Derek leaned over and pulled out the small tube Stiles had there. It was half empty and Derek raised his eye brow at this.

"What?" Stiles muttered defensively, "I'm all into exploring my body," Derek only snorted in response, capping the flip lid and squirting some onto his hand.

Stiles was not about the tell him that he used the lube to jack off and finger himself, thinking of Derek and his rippling muscles, his handsome brow and jaw, his electrifying eyes... he would imagine Derek's rough hands on his skin and what he could do with his mouth.

When Derek brought his hand back to Stiles' dick, it was slick and cool, slipping quickly over his length and making Stiles' toes clench in pleasure.

It was such a sensation to have someone else touch his dick, someone being Derek fucking Hale. He didn't think anything could get better than this, until Derek paused for a moment, shifting his weight so he was mostly kneeling in between Stiles' legs, and grabbed both of their dicks together and started to slide his hand over them together. Oh my god.

He felt like he was burning up, the feeling of Derek's dick pressed against his own while Derek jerked him off, so hot. Derek held both of their dicks together, sliding his hand slowly and rhythmically over the shafts.

Derek paused again and pushed a pillow under Stiles' hips, raising his lower body so his dick was more aline with Derek's. Stiles guessed the angle was uncomfortable. Derek was kneeling in between his legs, leaning forward with his weight on his free hand. It was an incredible show of strength and control, that he was able to hold himself in such an awkward position while participating in something that usually made people less in control.

When Derek began again, it felt so good. Derek's dick was hot and wet and with the sliding motion, Stiles was unable to control his little spastic hip thrusts.

He needed his hands on Derek. He needed his hands to be everywhere right now. His hands moved up Derek's arms, across his shoulders, down his back, up his sides, never staying anywhere longer than a breath. It was driving him crazy. He needed to feel his skin under his finger tips.

Muttering with impatience, Stiles lifted Derek's shirt up but got caught on his arm pits. Derek had to stop what he was doing to allow the shirt to come off. His dick was cold without Derek's hand and he whimpered at the loss but in a moment, the shirt was off and Derek was back at it. Stiles leaned his body forward and was able to claw his own shirt off too.

Later he would be embarrassed about how his body looked in comparison to Derek, but at the moment, he was so driven by lust, that he didn't care.

Derek watched his hand for a moment, but then flicked his eyes up to Stiles' face, watching him with an intensity that would normally make him squirm with uncomfortableness, but at the moment the gaze was hot and heavy and made him impossibility more hard and wanting. It was an open vulnerability that made the moment even more raw, even more tender.

"Mine," Derek murmured, eyes latched on to Stiles'.

The thought of Derek claiming him cut through Stiles with a deep desire to let him be his. Yes, he wanted this.

"Yours," he responded.

Derek's face was so open, tenderness and something Stiles would later recognize as love, blazed from his features. Derek's hand tightened and moved faster as if invigorated from their proclamations.

Stiles was writhing on the bed, panting open mouthed. He wasn't going to last much longer.

His hands moved quickly across Derek's shoulders and back, digging into his muscles hard enough, that Derek rumbled above him. Leaning forward, he bit and licked Derek's collar bone and neck, knowing that he was being sloppy and wet but not caring.

"uh, oh my god, Derek, uh, I'm going to come," he rasped, feeling the building pressure deep in his belly, not caring that his mouth was opening and closing with pathetic wantonness.

Derek growled, his grip tightening. His fingernails dug into Derek's shoulders and with a filthy, open mouthed gasp, he was coming all over his stomach and chest. In less than a breath, Derek was coming hard too, his mouth open, canines elongated and features morphing under his skin, stuck between human and wolf. He howled his release.

Stiles leaned up, licking into Derek's mouth and grabbing at his shoulders, completely and totally wrecked.

When Derek was finished milking all the come from both of them, he collapsed down next to Stiles on the mattress. Derek, still in his beta form, grabbed him with gentle claws and kissed him back, even with the mouth full of pointed teeth. Stiles leaned into the kiss and trailed his fingers over Derek's side burns.

After another long, tender kiss, Derek leaned over, sniffed the come on Stiles' skin, than began licking it up.

"Whoah," Stiles breathed, watching the werewolf lick it all up. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide. He thought about this before but didn't realize he was going to like it. By the end, his skin was shiny and cool from Derek's tongue. It was alarming how quickly he could adjust to weird shit in his life.

"Dude, that's hot," Stiles confessed, "is this another werewolf thing?"

Derek only gave him a feral grin, now back in his complete human form, and leaned up and kissed him again.

"Mine," the werewolf growled over Stiles' skin.

"Yours," Stiles agreed.

They pulled their clothes back on and settled back on the bed. Stiles was curled up against Derek's chest, his arms tucked up between them with Derek's arms wrapped around him like a blanket. Derek moved his hand over Stiles' shoulders and back, lightly tracing and massaging.

"Mine," Derek whispered into his temple.

"Yours," Stiles murmured in return.

It felt so good and he felt so safe that he couldn't help falling asleep.

He's sure that his scent was different. He did take a shower afterwards, but, well, the smell of sweat and sex lingers for unknown amounts of time, especially for the skewed hypersensitive sense of smell of a werewolf. Whatever. He didn't care if the pack knew or not.

When the pack arrived, almost everyone politely ignored it. Isaac smiled hugely, as if he could possibly radiate his happiness through his teeth. Erica smirked and said, "finally," Scott squirmed uncomfortably and looked like he wanted to say something, but would wait until he and Stiles were alone. Jackson on the other hand...

"What the fuck have you been doing Stillinski?" he continued without pausing, "Well, it's about time! You and Derek had been circling each other for weeks," Stiles' eyes were wide as he swung his eyes back and forth between Jackson and Derek. Surely Derek would protest or growl or something. Instead, he just sat there, his arm swung around Stiles' shoulder and smirked.

Stiles thought that, in his own way, Jackson was accepting their relationship. The whole pack seemed to accept them.

After everyone settled down, they watched some movies, ate snacks and had a really good time. Stiles stayed with Derek all evening and Derek held him close. There was no need to try and hide their relationship now. From the way they smelled, everyone in the pack knew that Stiles belonged to Derek and Derek to Stiles.

When the movie was over, Isaac snuggled up against Stiles for a hug, leaning his curly head on Stiles' shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. Derek moved his arm and grabbed Isaac even closer, pulling the boy off balance and making him tumble into Stiles and Derek. They were all lying on the floor, creating the perfect opportunity for a puppy pile. Like one body, the whole pack surged around them, cuddling and nuzzling, ending in giggles and smiles. Even Boyd and Jackson were not immune to the pull of the puppy pile, Everything was so... right.

Even after the weekend trauma, he felt okay and he knew that with time, he would only get better, especially with his pack. The whole pack understood, in a way, and could and would comfort him, even Jackson. It was comforting to have such a group and Stiles was grateful. Derek knew especially, first hand, what happened and was there for him in any way he could be. Derek, his friend, his alpha, his lover, was there for him.

They laid down with their sleeping bags and Derek welcomed Stiles into his arms and pulled him close. Isaac was on his other side and rolled, spooning Stiles from the other side. He could feel Erica petting his leg. Stiles smiled into Derek's chest, happy to have his pack.


Thank you for all your support to help me finish this story. I know I was really lagging behind to post this final chapter but I kept rewriting sections because I wasn't quite satisfied yet. Thanks for hanging in there with me and thank you for reading my story! I hope you liked it.