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Stiles fastens the holster buckle; made sure it’s tight enough his gun won’t slip and fuck him up when he’s going against other raiders, as the job tend to do. Him bending to do that only led to his tight ass pants to ride up and give him a wedgie, girls complaining about that can go fuck themselves, it definitely can’t compare to his nuts crushed like a pistachio. Which reminds him, he really needs to tell Lydia to actually get him pants his size, not hers? His assistant tends to get carried away sometimes and Stiles doesn’t have the heart to stop her. Correction, Stiles loves his nuts too much to get it destroyed by a genius but vicious assistant.
“Damn these tight pants,” he grumbles to himself, trying and failing to pull the hems of the pants down his thighs. Someone behind him clears his throat and when he turns around it is to Derek leaning on the tree behind him, smirk in place and his eyes leering. “Enjoying the show perve?” Derek grins, pulls himself off the tree and walks to him. “More like appreciating the view, we are after all, right in the middle of the fucking jungle aren’t we?”
Stiles stays resolute not to move back, standing firm and looking him stubbornly in the eyes. Stiles’ tent is a little bit secluded from the others- Stiles prefers the quiet to plan- which is why he doesn’t bother to go into his tent to start fiddling with his butt, he’s made sure he has privacy from the beginning. Which Derek completely ignores. Yeah they’ve made amends but Stiles is still reluctant to completely open up to him, stopping himself from inviting him to share his tent or his bed. Their relationship is shaky at best; especially since Derek still hasn’t told him the reason he went MIA. Stiles still can’t trust him fully yet, not until he knows the truth.
Derek only stops once he is way way inside his personal bubble and his arm winding itself across his back. “What are you doing Sourwolf?” his grin grows at the nickname, “Nothing Stiles, just trying to…help,” the hand behind him plays at his waistband; his fingers somehow managing to slip through the tight space. Derek leans in and Stiles reacts by leaning away from him, the subtler tug of war ends with both of them looking to the outside eye, like a couple embracing in an aborted tango dance. Stiles’ hands move up from his thighs to his shoulders for balance, giving Derek free reigns at the newly vacated territory. His free hand moves to cup the back of his thigh, higher than what is appropriate and quite frankly, close enough to his balls to feel the phantom heat from his hand.
“Slowly Stiles, you’re gonna hurt yourself there,” the hand in his pants pushes his front snug against Derek, his other hand drawing circles so close to his junk, Stiles whimpering when it gets too close. His hand massages his lower back gently before arching his hand on the tips of his fingers, pulling the material away from his back allowing the other hand to pull a little bit of his the fabric on his thigh down. Slowly the pressure on his balls decreases, now with a whole lot different pressure instead. Stiles moans when one tug has Derek’s hand accidentally cradling his balls, and he doesn’t know it, but he thinks there is even a minor squeezing involved. Stiles glares, “Oops, my hand slipped,” he said, with an unrepentant smile on his stupid face.
Over and over again the motion continued, Derek getting closer and closer until he has his mouth on his ear, blowing hot breath into the cavern. Stiles’ hands tightens on his shoulder, the hot air blowing into his ear and his clothed dick basically rubbing against Derek gets him hot and bothered. “Still tight?” comes the loaded question. Stiles looks at his smug mug and decides he is so done with this, “I’m fine now thanks,” he pushes off. Stiles won’t say he cowardly hides behind the table, it’s more of a tactical retreat because he is so totally Charles Xavier, Derek the Soviet fleet and the table ocean barrier in between. “Don’t you have anything else to try to do?” Stiles amends, “Other than me I mean.”
He just shrugs, opening his mouth to retort when a voice interrupts. “Stiles Stilinski?” the voice comes from the back of the tent and a second later the owner steps out to reveal a tall man of a muscular built in a tight thin shirt - kinda like Derek actually- light brown hair and brown eyes behind a pair of frameless glasses.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m John. We talked over emails and I’m supposed to go with you to the site to…day?” the dude starts to look unsure the longer he explains without getting any response. Stiles waits another thirty seconds looking blank before his demeanour breaks and he giggles, “Sorry dude, just messing with you. I know you’re coming today. Hi, I’m Stiles,” he holds out his hand, flashing John his best smile just to placate John’s nervousness, plus he’s being mean to the new guy and he feels a little bit guilty. The hand shake is firm and runs a little too long, Stiles forgetting himself when there’s a nerdy hottie in the same space as him. He’s been in the jungle way too long and Derek is an uncharted territory so no can blame him from ogling; at this point, it’s completely natural for that to happen. That’s what Stiles tells himself anyway.
“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you,” the handshake ends when Derek forcefully breaks the bond and take it upon himself to introduce himself, “I’m Derek Hale, I’ll be going with you guys too,” his handshake is short and firm, but the glare is no less potent than the Stiles’ ogle. “Pleasure,” the tone is too unsure to be true, but John averts his eyes and focuses on Stiles instead. “So are we moving on soon? I do believe this to be a fitting time to start our adventure. It’s early so we’ll get the most of the daylight before dusk falls. I’m looking forward to discover the plants there.”
“Hold on cowboy, books and smarts is definitely good here but so are these stuff,” Stiles says pointing to a dagger in a thigh holster, “Trust me, if past experience has told me anything, you can never go wrong with bringing weapons when you’re in the kind of adventure like mine. I’d give you a gun but I’m not sure you won’t end up shooting your own foot, so dagger it is. You know how to put it on?” At the head shake, Stiles drops to his knees, making his face eye level to John’s crotch.
“Put your leg through this, right that’s it, spread your legs a little bit, yeah that’s enough. Heads up, I’m gonna pull the straps now, it can be uncomfortable if you’re not used to it but I need to tighten this up or it’s gonna slide down your leg and trip you. You definitely do not want that, this dagger is one sharp little fucker,” the longer Stiles is on his knees, his big mouth wide open inches away from John’s crotch, the louder Derek’s initially subdued growl grow. He stomps to Stiles and pulls him up to him, “I think that’s tight enough, we don’t want to be late don’t we?” Stiles nods.
Five minutes later, they are finally off, Stiles fiddling with his fancy compass in front leading them while the other two are following a few paces behind. Derek took the opportunity of Stiles’ distraction to talk to John without him noticing. “You’re an alpha,” Derek says without preamble, eyes flashing red as it locks with John; the latter’s flashing the same. “As are you,” John says, not even breaking their eye contact to look at where they are going, using Stiles muted curses to guide them. “Does he know?” John asks, “Does he know about us? Does he know about you?”
Derek’s silence is more incriminating than his words ever will, “It doesn’t matter, what matters is your purpose of coming here. Should I expect any trouble from you?” a light of recognition dawns on John as he looks between Derek and Stiles, and his shy demeanour from before breaks, he smirks when he says, “You and him?” when no answer is forthcoming, “No? Oh but you want to, don’t you?”
“None of your business; keep to your own and don’t start shit up and we’ll get along just fine. If I see anything, John, anything at all, I’ll kill you myself understood?” John nods, realising how serious Derek is, “I assure you Derek, I’m here only here for scientific research only. You won’t get any problem with me,” Both men nods their agreement and speeds up when Stiles whines for them to keep up.
The site when they arrive is magnificent. Slabs of massive rectangular stone makes up the whole building, the stone yellow and cracked with age, roots emerging in between fissures winding all the way up to the domed top. The building easily span acres and acres of land and a few stories high, in other words, acres and acres of a scientist’s wet dream come to life. John is vibrating where he stands, unable to curb the excitement of actually being in a place of history and thousands of some more to be discovered inside. “Oh my, do you realise where we are? This is the colossal bomb my friends, oh god, I can’t believe this. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
“Hold up Mister, you don’t just go into places like this. Ancient times has always taught me that if it’s big enough to have a fucking building built in the middle of nowhere, there’s always something valuable they are keeping. These people are crazy protective of their treasure and that means, all of our balls are in a dismembering danger, I mean big time. So we, don’t just go in willy nilly understood?” John nods and stands behind Stiles, nodding his head for Stiles to make a move.
Checking that Derek is all ready beside him, Stiles takes a few cautious steps up the stairs and after a short distance goes without anything falling on top of their heads, Stiles relaxes enough to go further and start looking. Stiles scours the area, at the high ceilings covered in cobwebs and dust spanning from there down to the ground, with some random bugs scurrying by into those little gaps. It’s kind of dark as they go along so Stiles lights up the torches pinned to the wall, taking one of them for the road.
It’s pretty much your standard abandoned ancient building as he strolls inside one of the openings on the wall, endless corridors so dark he can barely see ten feet ahead. He sees a dim lighting in the distance after a while, and the air feels less stifled as he moves closer. He stops to call out Derek and John, and waits until both of them arrive seconds later. “I see light at the end, so that might be a second entrance or just gaps in the building, I don’t know yet but keep a look out okay. I’ll go first, and you’ll be behind us John, Derek has been in a couple expeditions with me before so he knows the drill. I need you to keep vigil alright?” he waits for John to nod his understanding before he goes.
He keeps the flame in front of him, cautious of things in the dark. It’s quiet in the corridor, only the echo of their footsteps fills in the silence, and that’s when Stiles stops. “Wait. Don’t move,” he bends down and lights the floor, “There, see that?” he points to one spot on the ground. Even with his superior sight, it takes Derek an extra second for him to see a sliver of shine reflected by the torch, a thin string attached from one end of the wall to the other.
“The place is, as expected, booby-trapped. Careful now, stay behind me,” Derek is impressed, and based on the look on John’s face; he didn’t see the piece of string too. Stiles is really good at this, Derek just didn’t realise just how much. Stiles doesn’t stop them anymore after that, and couple of turns of corridors they finally see a single doorway at the end. It’s too bright to make out where it leads to and after a reassuring look behind, Stiles steps through the door.
It leads to a large theatre, big enough for a football stadium easy, constructed exactly like a gladiator stadium complete with several gated entrances and dusty sand floor. The only difference is the enormous tree placed in the middle, thriving with low hanging branches and lush green leaves, seeming at odds with the harsh, dry surrounding area. Stiles doesn’t know how the tree can even live rooted into the dry cracked ground, much less actually looks healthy and strong. It’s that fact that has him getting his guard up because that doesn’t sound right to anybody. They warily close in the tree, testing their weight on the smattering of bright green grass before daring to stand underneath the tree trunks.
“Can you smell that?” Stiles asks, the scent of earthy green with an underlying cloying sweetness suddenly wafts from the tree, smelling stronger the more they move to the denser part of the tree, where the bark is thicker and the lines run deeper. There is a miniscule crack in between the bark, unseen unless you’re looking for it, with damp secretion coming out of its small cavern and Stiles surmises it being the source of the smell. Stiles scrapes off the bark, exposing the smooth skin inside until he breaks enough to uncover a hollow depression in between. Something glints when the light hits it, and unlike the running theme of green they have been having so far, the glint is coloured red.
More and more of the secretions comes out the more Stiles rips off the bark from the flesh, it gets to a point where the fluid gets on most of his upper body but Stiles is relentless in his pursuit. Pulling out the last of the bark, Stiles finally sees the glint for what it is; a blood red ruby, its colour more defined as sunlight falls on it. Noticing tiny markings on it, Stiles tears the ruby off from the roots encasing it and raise it to the sun to have a closer look.
There’s nothing peculiar about the markings at first, it’s just a random swirly design on the edges that doesn’t seem to mean anything, until he finally sees a word engraved at the centre of the ruby. Before he can make out what the word is, John whom hasn’t said anything so far, lets out-there’s no other word for it- a roar.
Stiles almost drops the ruby, he stands there staring transfixed at John, literally growing fangs and fur on his face in a matter of seconds. His eyes are ringed with red with his nose up in the air as if sniffing something tasty. By the looks of him Stiles believes it is him.
“Whoa, what the fuck!”
Derek doesn’t waste any time and grabs Stiles the hell out of there. The last thing Stiles sees before they flee is of John crouching on the ground, convulsing as his body grows in girth and his claws raked into the ground. His howl follows them as they run through the mazes of corridors. “What the fuck was that Derek? What was that?”
Derek who is barely out of breath replied, “He’s a werewolf,” that admission almost trips Stiles into falling if not for Derek’s hand steadying him and staying there. “What in the-Whaat? Are you fucking kidding me, this is not the time for jokes Derek, dear god,” they take a swift turn to the left and runs until they can no longer hear John’s snarl behind them. Further look reveals a room with an actual functioning door, which they immediately bar from the inside with random bits of heavy brassware scattered all over the room.
Stiles lets loose a sigh of relief and moves to the opposite ends of the room, being wary of Derek who suddenly doesn’t feel like the Derek he knows before. They are at a standstill until Stiles simply just cannot rein in his curiosity any longer and makes the first move.
“Explain.”
Derek avoids his eyes, eyes flittering anywhere but his till when it really did, his eyes are bright with determination. “You asked me why I disappeared. John is the reason why,” at Stiles’ betrayed look, Derek quickly amends, “Shit, not like that Stiles! I just knew him today. He’s a werewolf, like me,” Derek waits for the fear to show but Stiles only looks steadily unimpressed. “Well? Is that it?”
“Yes?”
“Dammit Derek, is this why you left me? Because you’re a werewolf?” he waits for Derek’s nod of confirmation then cuts the distance between them and pins Derek to the wall. “I knew you’re not the most emotionally perceptive of the bunch Derek but really? I gotta admit I’m a bit overwhelmed by this new information because dude, werewolves are real holy god but you should know me better. Have you or have you not been in my expedition Derek? You know all the crazy shit I’ve encountered, shits I haven’t even thought to prepare for but it happens anyway and I’m still here. Did you think of me that selfish?”
“No, don’t you ever think that. You’re the reason why I’m still sane after all I’ve been through, the reason why I didn’t just let go and kill myself,” Stiles gasps, he grabs at his face to look him in the eyes, watching those green orbs pool with tears, “What happened? Tell me Derek.”
“The morning I left, I was actually on my way to get us something to eat. I even went to that diner to get you extra large curly fries with extra grind of black pepper you love so much. That’s when I got a call from Laura,” his voice catches and Stiles moves to wrap his arms around him, letting him rest his face in the crook of his neck. “My pack, all of them perished in the fire. They didn’t even do anything; it was just an accident really. The youngest in the pack, Carol, got lost in the store and wolfed out when she bumped into a couple of hunters from out of town. She was young and didn’t have a much control over her wolf and reacted to threat instinctively. She ended up injuring one of them before escaping to safety. They got to them the very same night, torching the house down and trapping everyone inside. No survivors except for Laura who was in New York at the time. She was actually on her way back after she found out about what happened to Carol, but didn’t get there fast enough.”
“Pack is everything Stiles, they keep us stable and safe and loved, keep us anchored , keep us human, help us control the animal from taking over. Laura couldn’t deal with the loss; she refused to set a foot in town and decided to stay in New York with her mate. I can’t, I can’t leave everything behind and move on. So I stayed and dealt with the investigation, got everything settled with the wills and rebuild the house.”
Stiles is silent though his hand never stops brushing on the top of his head, between his shoulder blades. He waits until Derek is calm enough to stop dry sobbing to ask, “I could have been there for you, you know. What I felt for you wasn’t just physical, I’d go with you within a heartbeat, no questions asked,” Derek moves back to look him in the eye. “I think deep down I knew that, but I was an idiot back then, just like I’m an idiot now for taking so long to come back.”
“That you are, SourWolf,” he leans in for a peck and traces his fingers on his face, “And I forgive you,” another peck and he goes back to their previous position, basking in his warmth and the comfort of being back in his embrace again. A moment pass and the atmosphere suddenly changes, there’s electricity in the air and Stiles can feel the tension shifting, his senses tensing with alarm. Tension doubled by the fact that Derek seems to be a whole lot hairier than he was a minute ago. He got a lot sniffier too, “Derek?” he asks.
Derek as a half-wolf is bigger than him as a human; his eyebrows are gone too which is weird considering it all find its way around his face instead. Some would say he looks ugly like this, too much of a wild animal to see the beauty in it but that’s all Stiles can see, he looks more real like this, less hidden and so much more powerful. Slowly, as not to spook him, he reaches a hand in front of his face, staying still as Derek inspects it with his nose and tongue.
Deeming him harmless, Derek seems to be more interested in sniffing his way up his arm, lingering at the bend of his elbows and at the point where Stiles realises he still has the fluid from the tree smeared on his skin. That’s when John starts banging on the door, snarling and roaring. Derek responds in kind, pulling Stiles to him roughly almost to the point of pain. Taking a deep breath, Stiles mirrors his action from before and grabs at his face, looking him unwaveringly in the eyes and whispers, “Derek.”
It’s fascinating watching the raised flesh and hair sink back into the skin, the fangs retreating into the gums and Derek looks like himself again, well other than the glowing eyes and deep growl he’s emanating. “Stiles, the tree sap,” his eyes fix on the one on his arm as if he can’t help himself, “It acts as a kind of lust potion. I’ve seen it before, didn’t realise it was the same one until I saw the ruby. That’s why John’s out there; he wants to...rut you.”
“If you’re a werewolf, why didn’t it affect you before?”
“It works best if the two aren’t acquainted, slower if they’ve been intimate,” Derek’s starts to convulse and he can see the beginnings of him wolfing back out, his nozzle up in the air as he takes a deep breath, “Stiles, I can feel it working. It won’t be long now,” he pulls something from his pocket, a tiny zip lock bag filled with purple powder, “Here, take this. This is Wolfsbane powder; I keep it to heal myself from wolfsbane bullets. I want you to use it,” his eyes widen in horror, he may have just known what Derek really is but even he knows what wolfsbane does to a wolf, “That’ll be enough to put me down,” his eyes shows his desperation for Stiles to get it, “Promise me you’ll use it . I’ve already hurt you once, I’d be damned if I do it again.”
Another shudder racks his body, strong enough to back him onto the wall, veins straining on the surface of his skin in an effort for control. Stiles looks at the packet in his hand, at Derek in agony, and decide to go through with his stupidest plan yet, but he-just-doesn’t-fucking-care. He tosses the packet over his head, watches Derek’s head zeroes in on it when it hits the ground, his face managing to look confused under all the strain on his face. He approaches him confidently, grabs his head and pecks him hard on the mouth.
“I trust you.”
That’s all it takes.
Stiles finds himself pushed against the wall, cheek pressing in almost painfully to the dusty walls. “Fuck Stiles you, fuck,” Derek’s panting heated breaths on his neck, shooting shivers down to the ends of his toes. His hands are all over him, as if he doesn't know where to touch first, just letting his palm skims his throat, his leg, his chest and the skin of his firm belly as he slides up the fabric over his nipple. “You smell so good, always so good.”
With a drag of his claw, he has Stiles’ torso bared and already working on his lower half, sniffing where his scent is the strongest. Stiles giggles as his stubble brushes the skin of his back and soon chokes off a groan as the sniffing’ has Derek nudging his balls with his nose. Stiles swears his nails gouges a chunk of the walls himself when Derek takes into licking them instead, thoroughly. More of the debris falls as Derek extends his generosity up to his rim, giving no less love than before, licking into his tight hole until it yields and he can ease one, two fingers in. It’s a tight fit but the pressure feels good, his hips moves unconsciously to his still fingers, pushing down hungrily for that delicious pressure inside him.
Derek nudges his legs apart with his knees, spreads his asscheeks while his fingers finally does it damnest to fuck him silly. One particular thrust has Stiles dribbling pre cum on the wall, he’s well aware he’s defiling history in the worst way possible but hey, who the fuck cares when he has tasty tasty fingers jabbing at his prostate. “If you don’t want me to fucking come my brai-brain out...oh fuck that feels good...You better stop right now,” Stiles knows he’s two thrusts away from coming but Derek hasn't shown any signs of stopping.
“Let go Stiles,” he drawls.
He has his jizz splattering against the walls and running down his balls before he even knows it, the force of it has his knees weak and if it isn’t for Derek holding him up, he’s be a pile of goo on the floor by now. “Dude, you’re the best,” he giggles out, “I haven’t come that hard in months, you win hands down, best werewolf ever!” he giggles again. It takes him two seconds to realise that Derek isn't anywhere done with him. Derek gets off his little perch behind Stiles and makes it known how really interested he is, if the firm head of his dick resting on his rim is of any indication. “Hey what are you...?”
Derek has his back against the wall, staring straight at him while his hand pumps at his cock, coaxing out several more drops of come into his palm, sniffing once he has a little pool in the middle. Stiles works at getting Derek naked as fast as possible, unable to wait to feel his skin against his and touch those fucking concrete of muscles. Derek only allows the former to happen, stopping Stiles by an arm across his chest while his other hand smears the pool of cum on his own dick, coating every surface and jacking himself with it. Stiles stares transfixed on his cock, his large hands spanning easily around his thick and long shaft, giving tiny tugs at the head that leaves him gasping.
His mouth waters hungrily as he watches pearly drops form at the tip, bubbling up at one particular tug and slides rapidly down to his balls. “Please Derek, please can I touch it?” he begs, whining when one drops to the floor. His desperation has him kneeling on the floor, Derek’s cock in his mouth and sucking like he has never had a drink in his life and Derek’s dick is heaven’s ambrosia. Up and down he goes, hands at the base where he can’t fit the rest with his mouth, pumping furiously for a taste of Derek sliding down his throat. Derek pulls him off before he comes; shoving Stiles back where he was before, swollen red mouth gaping empty with spittle dribbling down his chin.
“Gonna come inside of you, fuck it deep so everyone will know who you belong to. Fuck you real good, no one is ever going to be able to mount you without smelling me. Do you like that Stiles? Mate you and keep you forever and own you as you will own all of me?” Stiles is already nodding way before he even finishes that sentence, arms going around his neck as he wraps his legs around his waist, mouth breathing a reverent yes, yes, yes into his ear.
Derek gathers the residual sap on Stiles arm, the slippery substance good enough for lube and there’s more than enough for Derek to ease his way as painless as possible. He coats it thoroughly along his shaft, swabbing some more off his skin and does the same with two fingers up his entrance. Stiles is still slightly loose and wet form his ministrations earlier, enough to add his third finger as he thrusts carefully to prepare him further. “I’m ready Derek, just,” his breath stutters, “just fuck me. Fill me up, I want it Derek, fill me up good and stuffed with your cum.”
Derek hauls him up with a hand on each thigh, spreading him wide till the head of his cock rests on his rim. Stiles lets gravity do its work and sink into it slowly, loving the stretch of it as he swallows down his cock till he hit rock bottom. Derek pulls out almost immediately before thrusting back in, using his hold on Stiles’ legs as leverage to fuck him harder. His rapid thrust up and down his inside hits his prostrate perfectly leaving Stiles incoherent of his surrounding other than the delicious slide of Derek’s cock pumping furiously inside of him.
“Fuck yes, that feels good babe, yeah there, there!” his orgasm hits him hard and he’s spurting ropes of come on Derek, the splatter covering both of their chests and a small drop clings on the underside of his jaw. Sudden tightening of his hole when he comes has Derek’s hips stuttering, the sweet pressure almost driving him off the edge but it isn’t enough, not until Stiles manages to snap out of his orgasmic haze and whispers in his ear, “Come for me Derek.”
Stiles feels the burst of warmth splash inside him, the clamps of Derek’s hands on his thighs strong enough that Stiles is sure he’s going to bruise later but he’s totally okay with that. Derek slumps against the wall as his dick gives its last spurt inside of Stiles, effectively pinning the both of them and keeping them upright as Derek lost strength on his legs. Panting harshly, Stiles kisses him on his cheek, turning his face as he trails those kisses to his lips where he smacks a deep one.
Looking into his eyes, Stiles knows.
He knows everything will be alright.
Because he can see it now, see that Derek loves him.
And that’s okay.
Cause Stiles definitely loves him too.