Chapter Text
On pack meal nights, the werewolves took turns cooking and Stiles cleaned up. He liked doing it; the pack left him alone and he had some relative peace and quiet with his thoughts, or at least humming whatever song was stuck in his head. Washing everything by hand—Derek didn’t have a dishwasher yet—satisfied his OCD tendencies. He even managed to think through some conundrums of whatever big bad was menacing Beacon Hills that week. So washing dishes: not lacking in fun or productivity.
The kinds of movies the pack liked to watch after dinner weren’t exactly Derek’s thing, so sometimes he came into the kitchen to check on Stiles. He and Stiles limited their PDA in front of the pack, even though they were four months into this oddly domestic relationship and pretty much everyone accepted Stiles as a sort of den mother. So despite their self-enforced chastity when the pack was around, Derek would still seek him out for a brief nuzzle behind the ears before getting a beer and disappearing again. Stiles liked it; he knew with certainty that he wasn’t being completely overlooked as the one lone human in the pack.
So when he didn’t hear any footsteps—damn stealthy werewolves—and got a warm nose behind his left ear in the middle of scrubbing out the lasagna pan, he only jumped a little. The pan slipped in his grasp and clunked against the side of the sink. He regained his grip and resumed scrubbing. “Hey there.”
“Any leftovers?”
Stiles whipped around. Isaac looked totally innocent, stepping back to give him a normal amount of space, hands in his pockets.
“Did you just…”
Isaac shrugged. “Sorry, didn’t think you would mind. So is there anything left to eat?”
Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and jerked his chin toward the refrigerator. Isaac took a Tupperware container out with a little hum of satisfaction, grabbed a fork from the pile of dirty dishes left to wash, and returned to the living room.
What the fuck. None of the pack had ever done that before. It wasn’t a big deal—wasn’t like Isaac had felt him up through his jeans or anything—but it was still crossing a line Stiles wasn’t aware he’d drawn. He finished scrubbing the lasagna pan with renewed concentration, then attacked the plates.
“What’s wrong?”
Fucking werewolf stealth. Stiles glanced over his shoulder at Derek before attacking a blob of cheese. “Nothing.”
“Your heartrate is elevated, and your breathing. Washing dishes doesn’t take this much of your energy.”
“Can we talk about it later?”
Derek said nothing for a long time. Stiles looked up to make sure he was still there. Surprisingly, Stiles found him calming watching with his hands resting by his sides. Just the way he seemed so relaxed made Stiles take a breath and fight back against the impending freakout.
“Okay.” Derek backed toward the doorway.
“Great. Thanks.” Stiles deposited the plate in the rinse basin and picked up another.
~~~~
After the dishes were done, Stiles didn’t feel much like socializing. He had a AP European History paper to write and a set of problems to solve for Pre-Cal. Luckily another perk of dating the Alpha was having still more privacy in Derek’s bedroom, aka Stiles’ parttime study.
He was about three-quarters of his way through the Pre-Cal problems when he heard the pack disperse for the night. Scott yelled his goodbyes from the foyer; Erica and Boyd trooped upstairs for their own room, and—
That was just about everyone, Stiles reminded himself. Derek and Isaac tended to be quieter around the house, and Jackson had been gone for months. The story from his family was that he’d gone to a military high school, which seemed just as likely as Jackson running off to live in the plains of rural Wyoming. And with him gone, Lydia didn’t come around to hang with any of them. Same with Allison; things still weren’t smoothed out between her and Scott. The pack had shrunk to the six of them.
A shoe scraped outside the door. Deliberate. Isaac poked his head around the frame.
“You busy?”
“Just—Just some homework.”
Isaac smiled and stepped into the room. “Can I—”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Derek said from somewhere down the hall. Isaac jumped back out of the room and backed up toward one of the other spares.
“Nowhere, just—bed. Homework. Doing homework before bed.”
Derek stopped at the threshold of his room, watching Isaac, now out of Stiles’ line of sight. “Good plan.”
Stiles smothered a laugh as Isaac’s door banged shut. Derek shook his head and closed his own door behind himself.
“He’s being a little weird.”
“You’re telling me.” Stiles went back to chewing on his pencil and contemplating his answer sheet.
Derek made an inquiring noise and sat down on the end of the bed to unlace his boots. When Stiles didn’t answer, he grabbed one of Stiles’ socked feet and shook it lightly. Stiles kicked him away.
“Nothing, but—he…”
Derek shook his foot again.
“Okay, stop it, that is not my talking switch. He did that thing you do sometimes. The ear nuzzling. I thought he was you, and when he wasn’t you but himself, it kind of threw me.”
Derek hummed before pulling off his socks and tossing them in the hamper. “He’s getting more comfortable with the pack. I think he’s making progress.”
“He can probably hear you, you know.”
“The betas have to learn how to suppress their hearing if they can’t live with eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations all the time. It’s a matter of being responsible with your knowledge or choosing to remain politely ignorant.”
Erica laughed down the hall. Stiles rolled his eyes.
“I get it. You had to get the deluxe sectional sofa to accommodate the massive pile of puppies. I can’t take a five-minute shower without someone walking in to get something out of the medicine cabinet. I’m afraid one of our dinners is going to turn into the spaghetti-eating scene from Lady and the Tramp, which, now that I think of it, would be pretty—”
Derek flicked off the overhead light, leaving just the bedside table lamp illuminating Stiles’s homework. Stiles stopped talking. “It really is good that he showed you trust and affection. I’ll talk to him about your human boundaries.”
“Excuse me—”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Your boundaries as a human in our pack. Does that make you feel better?”
“About which, your rephrasing or Isaac respecting boundaries?”
Derek stole his pencil and pretended to wield it like a stake. “I hope you’re done with this.”
Stiles feigned a screaming damsel in distress before snatching it back. “Let me finish these last few problems and I’m all yours.”
Derek got up and continued undressing for bed, making Stiles’ last problems immensely more difficult. Even when he had changed into pajama pants (the dude was seriously into his bedtime comfort, it turned out) and had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, Derek was still pretty captivating.
He finished solving for x or whatever and packed up his backpack just as Derek flicked off the light in the ensuite bathroom. He paused in the doorway and gestured back at the sink. “Did you—”
“Yeah, I’ll use it eventually.”
“You staying here tonight?”
“I told Dad not to expect me home tonight.” Stiles zipped up his backpack and stood. He knew it wasn’t a direct answer. “So, I mean, if you’ll have me—”
“Come here.” Derek stretched out on his back on his bed, curling a few fingers in Stiles’s direction.
He couldn’t keep a goofy grin off his face as he crossed the room, pausing every few feet to pull off a sneaker and strip off his socks. He straddled Derek’s legs and braced himself over him. “Hi.”
“You’re a nutcase. How long have we been doing this?”
“Since the faerie sex pollen incident or since we started fully consensual dating slash bumping uglies?”
“Long enough,” Derek continued as if Stiles hadn’t spoken. “You should know I want you here all the time.”
Boyd shouted down the hall and through two closed doors. “ALL the time, Stiles.”
“Oookay, creeperific…”
“You know what I mean.” Derek cupped the back of his neck and leaned up to rub his nose against Stiles’ cheek. “I don’t want you uncomfortable around Isaac or any of the others. You need to tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m not uncomfortable per se, he just…”
“He’s making a lot of progress. You know how much he needed our help.”
Stiles nodded in all seriousness, and then Derek leaned up again and their lips met and they stopped talking for a while.
Stiles broke out of a kiss. “You think we need to coach him into dating or something, too?” He whispered to try and avoid the three betas from listening in.
Derek chased after his mouth, then detoured to bite his chin lightly. “Maybe.” Derek’s voice was a low thrumming murmur as he worked down Stiles’s throat with sucking kisses. “Why, you offering?”
Blunt teeth closed lightly around a taut tendon in the side of his neck, sending a pulse of sensation down his chest. Stiles shuddered with pleasure. “Um…”
“I was kidding.” Derek drew up the bottom of Stiles’ shirt with both hands and held it out of the way as he traced his fingertips up Stiles’s abdomen. He didn’t have much in the way of awesome muscle definition, but lacrosse had made him nicely lean and firm, and he loved how Derek seemed to appreciate his body, too.
He bet Isaac looked pretty good from lacrosse. They didn’t have lockers near each other so he’d never gotten a good look at him in the showers after practice or a game. But between the werewolfiness and a high-energy sport, Isaac had to be seriously cut.
Derek guided him to sit back on his heels and helped him strip off his shirt. Stiles leaned back into Derek’s legs as Derek ducked his head to Stiles’ chest and licked a circle around one nipple. Stiles sucked in a breath and combed his fingers through Derek’s hair.
“If you did offer,” Derek mumbled into his chest, “I doubt he’d say no.”
“Wha—Why?” Stiles’s eyes drifted shut as Derek licked around the other nipple. “He knows I’m yours.”
“But with my blessing…”
Stiles tugged on Derek’s hair and rocked his hips. “Why are we talking about this?”
Derek rocked back, and god yes, there it was, the brush of his hardness against Stiles’s erection. “Affection is a powerful emotion in a pack. All forms of expressing it. Sex is not a big commitment thing for werewolves.”
“And what about me? I don’t—”
Derek moved quickly, superhuman fast, and suddenly their positions were reversed with Stiles flat on his back. Derek rubbed a palm between Stiles’s spread legs and curled his fingers around Stiles’s hard heat. He raised an eyebrow to punctuate his point.
“God—” Stiles arched up. His dick had gotten fully hard so fast he felt light-headed. Every time Derek did the superhuman thing, it cranked Stiles’s motor harder than filthy XXX internet porn.
Derek pulled back just a little, unfastening the button of his jeans and drawing the zipper down. Stiles shoved down his jeans and boxers, wriggling until Derek helped pull those off him, too. When he turned back, he hummed a low thrum of contentment before lowering his head between Stiles’s legs.
His thighs immediately tensed, but he held still while Derek licked down the inside of one thigh to the joint of his hips. He buried his nose in the crease of Stiles’s groin and inhaled deeply, moaning softly on the exhale. “You smell so fucking good.”
“Mmm hmm.” Stiles twitched his hips, trying to get Derek’s attention on his balls or aching dick.
“Bet Isaac would think so, too. He’d bury his nose right here next to mine, smelling you getting hot and bothered for us.”
“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles writhed and tried to use his legs to position Derek somewhere more conducive to coming really quickly. But Derek broke the hold, sitting back to untie his pajama pants and shove them down his hips. When he braced himself over Stiles again, Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s back and over his ass (never anything less than amazing to feel) before helping to push the pants off. Derek lowered his head to Stiles’ chest and took a nipple between his lips.
Stiles shoved a fist in his mouth. Derek knew his nipples were sensitive, insanely so when he was really turned on. Derek flicked a tongue back and forth over him, sucked hard, then released and focused on the other side. Stiles whimpered into his fist.
“Don’t keep quiet,” Derek mumbled into his ribs. He dropped his hips and lay on Stiles completely, grinding their cocks together. A groan escaped Stiles’s fist. “Let them hear you. They want to.” He jerked his hips, driving Stiles a few inches up the bed. Stiles slapped a hand against the headboard behind him, bracing before another one of Derek’s thrusts sent him head-first into it. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Let me hear you. I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you.”
“Ohhh fuck, Derek. Jesus.” Stiles dropped his fist and raked his fingers down Derek’s chest, clawing to get closer. Derek kissed him hard and briefly, then reached over to the bedside table to dig out their bottle of lube. Stiles grabbed him for another kiss on the way back, but Derek angled his mouth away to press their foreheads together.
“I’d open you myself, get you all stretched and ready for me.” He opened the bottle of lube and got some onto his fingers as he talked. “But we’d want it to be special for Isaac, so I’d let him go first. If that’s okay with you.”
The lube was cool on his hole and Stiles jumped instinctively. Derek murmured and slipped a finger inside him.
“I’d make sure he was gentle with you. Not like me.” A second finger already. Stiles writhed, but shoved his hips down to take Derek’s fingers into him. “Take his time in getting you stretched and needy. I know how needy you get.”
The itch was building, deep in his balls and the root of his cock. Stiles panted and reached down to stroke himself.
“You might come more than once. So might he. I’m sure we can be patient, but we have quick refractory periods.” Derek eased a third finger into his hole. “And we could take turns, of course.”
Stiles whimpered and bit his lip, stroking faster. Then Derek grabbed his wrist mid-stroke and pulled his hand away. Stiles groaned and opened his eyes.
Derek lined up his cock with Stiles’s stretched hole and gently pushed. The tip sank in before the familiar burning stretch started, and Stiles held his breath, then remembered not to. He met Derek’s steady gaze as Stiles exhaled shakily and Derek’s cock pushed in further with just the slightest bit of burn.
“He might come fast. Fast and hard.” Derek slid in all the way, and barely paused before pulling back to sink in again. “Filling you up. Making you smell like us, inside and out. I fucking love the smell of my come on you. He’s going to go nuts for it.”
“God—” Stiles blinked sweat out of his eyes. “Jesus fucking christ Derek, please just fuck me.”
Derek’s next thrusts were faster and harder. Stiles shook and tightened his thighs around Derek’s waist. He was bent nearly in half, but Derek was so deep inside him, sometimes brushing past his prostate before bottoming out. Stiles could never get enough of being fucked like this, but Derek had never been this much for dirty talk. It was so much more intense, Derek’s low voice vibrating through him, the vivid images flashing through his mind.
“So he’d come first, and have to take a break. I’d take you over. I’d lick up all the sweat and lube and come from you, off your thighs and belly and ass, and deep inside.”
“FuckfuckFUCK, Derek, fucking make me come already—” Stiles started jerking his cock again, his hand brushing Derek’s abdoman. He squeezed his eyes tight, head tossing on the pillow.
“I’d put you on your knees over me. We would have already cleaned you up real deep before starting, so I’d just put you over my mouth. I’d shift just enough to make my tongue real long.”
Stiles cried out at the image. His arm was getting tired and his fingers were numb. He just wanted to come, goddammit.
“I’d lick up inside you, pull out all his come and clean you up. Make sure you don’t smell like anybody before I fuck you myself.”
Derek adjusted and suddenly the angle was perfect, the head of his cock driving against Stiles’s prostate, hammering in again and again until Stiles felt a spasm deep inside and his come rushed up out of his cock, surging in broad streaks to cover his chest and belly, smearing on his hands between their bodies. Stiles realized he’d been crying out, loud and totally unaware. He forced himself quiet, licked his lips and watched Derek work himself closer to orgasm.
Derek opened his eyes. His pupils were broad circles, nearly obliterating the hazel green of his irises. His lips pulled back over his teeth and he groaned quietly. He was close, so close.
“And when you’d fuck me—” Stiles was hoarse, but he didn’t care. “Your knot would push inside me just as you came, so we’d be tied together. Your big thick cock would practically be part of me, stuffing your come up inside me.”
“Oh, fuck.” Derek shuddered and stopped, his eyes shut again. He clenched his jaw hard enough for the muscles to stand out in his cheek. Stiles could feel his cock twitching gently, and the warm sensation of him coming inside him.
Derek started to move and something pulled at Stiles’s entrance. He made a sound and Derek stopped immediately, a grin spreading over his face.
“Fuck, you—”
“Yeah, it swelled up when I was already inside you.” Derek settled against him, bracing his forearms on either side of Stiles’s head. They kissed, heedless of sweat and sloppy technique. Eventually Stiles broke away.
“My hips are going to dislocate. Can we—” With a little adjustment, they managed to roll onto their sides. Derek was crushing one of Stiles’s legs, but he could handle it until Derek’s knot went down. They went back to kissing, and finally he could feel Derek slip out of him, leaving him wet and open.
This time Derek broke away, sniffing.
Stiles pushed his face away with an open palm. “God, get me a washcloth or something.” Derek grinned again as he rose and went to the bathroom. “Fucking animal,” Stiles muttered to himself, and laughed at his own joke.
Derek got them both cleaned up and launched the washcloth into the hamper. They snuggled back under the covers, not saying anything. Stiles realized his eyes were spending more time closed than open. He was about to ask Derek to get the light when there came a knock at the Derek’s door.
“Come in, Isaac,” Derek called.