Chapter Text
Stiles scans the classifieds. It’s something he’s always done since he was a teen, usually with his dad over breakfast. His dad would read the sports section and Stiles would look for bizarre postings or ads for junk shops and spare parts for the Jeep. He even looked for odd jobs where he could make quick money, like yard work or driving seniors to appointments. Mostly, though, he always scanned the pet section, hoping his dad would eventually cave if he pestered him enough to allow him to get a dog.
It’s been a year since his dad passed, a freak aneurysm that took him in his sleep, and Stiles has never been the same. Apart from Scott and Melissa, who’ve tried to include him as much as possible, he’s alone in a new city with a new job and a small two-bedroom house on a quiet street that’s mostly elderly couples who keep to themselves.
He spies a single ad in the animal/livestock section.
For Offer: Purebred Siberian Husky stud available for siring. Health and papers guaranteed. Contact...
Stiles has always wanted a husky. That’s his ideal dog. He’s pictured so many adventures with that breed of dog sitting in the passenger seat, while he drives down the coast with the top open. It would just be him and his dog. He wouldn’t need anyone else and he wouldn’t be so alone.
There’s a husky on his street, a female named Lelu, and despite the cantankerous Mr. Krawski, who owns her, Stiles loves that dog. He knows Mr. Krawski has never fixed her, so maybe he’d be open to breeding her and Stiles could have a puppy of his own. There’s no harm in asking, he figures, so he gets as much information about the sire as he can before approaching Mr. Krawski.
He emails the address in the ad, then forgets about it and goes on with his day. After long, grueling hours in front of his computer, and too many cups of coffee to keep him going, he checks his phone and finds a reply.
Hello Stiles,
I have his papers I can send you. Or you can visit the kennel and come meet him. I have other breeds available, but the husky is the one who is ready to stud.
DH
There’s an address at the bottom and a link to the kennel’s website. It’s an hour and a half out of the city, but it’s not too far that he’d waste the whole day. He could drive down on Saturday, meet the dog, and take some pictures to help sway Mr. Krawski.
Stiles writes back and asks if he can visit Saturday.
<<o>>
Stiles can hardly contain his excitement for some puppy snuggles. He barely sleeps the night before. He’s got his travel mug and some new tunes and he’s on the road by eight. As he gets further away from the city and further into nowhere, he has a fleeting thought: maybe he should’ve told someone where he was going. It’s not like Scott could do anything living five hundred miles away, and they’ve spoken little in the last few months, both too busy with their new jobs and new lives. He’s on his own.
He did his due diligence, though, and googled the kennel. The website is an out-of-the-box Squarespace site, clean with beautiful shots of the facility and its dogs. Along with their breeding side of the business, they work with rescues, re-training troublesome dogs, and re-home them to new families. They’ve even had some prize-winning show dogs come from their kennels. The company seems legit, with a lot of five-star reviews from happy customers.
Stiles isn’t worried.
He isn’t.
Not even when he drives down a long dirt road, sheltered by a thick canopy of trees overhead. He’s especially not worried when he pulls up to a twelve-foot wrought-iron gate with a call-box post sticking out of the ground.
He presses the buzzer, and a woman answers, asking abruptly what he wants.
“Ah, I’m here to see the husky?”
Stiles doesn’t know who emailed him, only a “DH,” so he doesn’t have anyone’s name. Is he even in the right place? But then the gate buzzes and swings open, and he drives his Jeep through, and it immediately closes with a clang. He follows a winding driveway, which is smooth and freshly paved, and so very different from the long dirt road he drove up on. There are signs to follow, directing him toward the kennels and some outbuildings. His mouth drops open at the huge, white house nestled back in the trees. He knows breeders can make good money, but not this good, and rescue work is usually non-profit, so to see the house and its immaculately manicured green lawn out in the middle of nowhere has him curious about what purebreds this place produces.
He parks in the ‘visitor’ spot, even though his Jeep is the only vehicle here.
There’s no one around to greet him or tell him where to go. He spots a sign for the office and sets out toward it, but before he’s across the parking lot, a barn door slides open, pushed by a man in a dirty, white tank top and navy blue coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist. He’s wiping his hands on a rag, grinning at Stiles with chiseled cheekbones shadowed under a sculpted beard.
Stiles’ breath catches.
“You must be Stiles.”
“Hi.” Stiles waves. “That’s me.” His stomach does ridiculous flips at the answering smile and nod.
“Follow me,” the man says and Stiles jogs to catch up, his feet answering before his brain registers the command. “I’m Derek Hale. I own the place.” He offers his hand and as Stiles shakes it, he can’t help but shiver at the warm contact. It’s not like it’s cold out, it’s a warm March morning. He’s just mesmerized by the man’s tanned, hairy arms.
“Kai’s in the barn. We’ve had to keep him away from the others until we find the ideal breeding partner.”
“Oh, okay.” Stiles listens as Derek talks of Kai’s pedigree and temperament, and Stiles tries following, but he’s so damn distracted by Derek’s musky smell and overall presence.
They reach the kennel and Derek’s looking at him with expectant eyes, waiting for an answer that Stiles never heard the question to.
“How old is your husky?” Derek repeats.
Stiles scratches the back of his neck, scuffing his Adidas on the pavement. “Actually, she’s not my dog, she’s my neighbor’s. He mentioned he wanted to breed Lelu, and I’m hoping I can raise one of the pups myself. He hasn’t agreed to it. Actually, he doesn’t even know I’m here. I thought I’d do a little recon before presenting the idea. I’m sorry to waste your time, Mr. Hale. I’ve just always wanted a husky, a companion.”
“First of all,” Derek says with a kind smile, “you’re not wasting my time. I’m always happy to let someone see our operation and, you never know, it might pan out. But it won’t if you don’t ask, right?”
Stiles stares for a moment, wondering who this magnificent creature is and how he knows Stiles’ exact thoughts.
“Kai is from excellent stock,” Derek continues, “a good lineage. Any owner would be happy to let him sire pups.” He glances at Stiles’ lips. “Never apologize for wanting to have someone in your life—even if it’s of the canine persuasion. They enrich our lives more than you can imagine. They give us structure and a feeling of belonging to someone we may not get from anyone else.”
His brain is still stuck in overload mode. His initial apprehensive thoughts have vanished. He was meant to come here this morning, that much he’s sure of.
“You said you were alone?” Derek asks.
“Yeah.” Stiles clears his throat. “I lost my dad last year. It’s been rough, to say the least. We were a team, you know?”
“I do know. I lost some of my family, too. Many of us who work and live here have.” He grips Stiles’ shoulder. “And it sucks.”
Stiles laughs, pushing away the tears in his eyes. “It sure does.”
They step into the outbuilding Derek had called the barn. It’s immaculately clean and brightly lit, even though there are stalls along the sides hidden in shadow. At the far end, there are large cages, empty except for one where a dog sits patiently, watching them. He’s larger than Stiles imagined. His coloring is gorgeous, speckled white and gray fur with dark markings around his muzzle. He looks more like a wolf than a dog. Stiles doesn’t know much about wolves, only what he learned as a kid in school, but he knows there are no wolves in California. Looking at the giant paws and narrow face, he swears he’s seeing his first wolf in the corner of that cage. If that’s the breeding sire, he can’t wait to see the puppies he’ll make with Lelu.
“He’s beautiful,” Stiles says as they walk closer.
“He is,” Derek says.
The dog’s ears twitch and golden eyes that almost glow fixate on the stranger standing next to his master.
“After you.” Derek smiles at Stiles and his knees go weak at how kind the man is being. Stiles’ heart races, and his face flushes. All this beauty in the barn is too much for his little twink brain to handle.
Derek gestures for Stiles to enter the kennel where the husky is waiting. Stiles reaches for the latch but feels a sharp prick on this finger.
“Ah, fuck.” He pulls his hand away, shaking off the pain. There’s a slight cut on his middle finger where the blood swells.
“I’m so sorry.” Derek rushes forward and gently reaches for Stiles’ hand. He pulls a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket. “I’ve told my sister to fix that latch a hundred times. I thought she had.” He presses firmly on the cut to stop the bleeding and cradles Stiles’ hand in his palm. When Stiles looks up, he meets Derek’s eyes, intently and unapologetically staring at him, like he can see into his soul. The butterflies in his stomach run amok. It’s entirely possible he giggles like he’s on drugs. This morning is wild.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks, his voice low, and for a moment Stiles gets the feeling Derek is about to suck on his finger to make it better.
“Yeah.” Stiles swallows. “It’s nothing. I’ve had paper cuts deeper than this.”
Derek pats his finger with the handkerchief a few times and then grins. “I think the bleeding has stopped.” He seems genuinely happy by this, which is weird, but Stiles doesn’t dwell because he’s sad Derek lets go of his hand to pocket the white rag.
He carefully opens the latch. “Stiles, meet Kai.”
At his name, Kai stands, watching at first, and then his backend wags, and his long tongue rolls out of his mouth.
“Can I…” He looks at Derek. “Can I pet him?”
“Of course.” Derek laughs. “He’s a good boy. He would never hurt you, Stiles.”
Stiles can’t contain his glee. He digs his fingers into the salt and pepper fur, falling to his knees. Kai whines, licking Stiles’ face, giving him kisses as Stiles runs his hands down his flank. The dog is excited but well-behaved. He doesn’t jump on Stiles or try to overpower him. He’s trained, and Stiles gets all kinds of ideas about having a dog like this. If he gets a puppy out of this, maybe Derek can help with the training, and if he doesn’t get a husky puppy, maybe there are other dogs in the kennel Stiles could adopt.
He gets lost in the exploration of the dog’s fur, rubbing his hands all over him, and burying his face in Kai’s neck. His hands roam, giving scratches to his underbelly, and making ridiculous sounds, telling Kai what a good boy he is. While he’s patting Kai’s chest, he shifts, knocking Stiles off balance. He scrambles to hold on to the dog’s scruff but slips, making contact with something warm and sticky. Stiles jumps back, surprised when he realizes he touched a place he shouldn’t have.
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry,” he says when he hears the dog whine. “I didn’t mean to—” His words get lost on his tongue when he takes a good look at what he touched. The dog’s cock is on display, glistening in the light from the overhead fluorescents. Stiles has never seen a dog cock. Sure, he’s seen male dogs when they get excited. The ‘pink lipstick’ comes out, but he’s never seen a fully unsheathed cock of a large dog.
He gulps. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.” Derek chuckles. “Seeing one for the first time is shocking. It’s rarely unsheathed like that, but Kai needs to breed, which is why I put out the ad.”
“Shocking? Ah, that’s one word for it.” Stiles scrambles to his feet, strategically turning his hips away from Derek. The last thing he needs is Derek seeing his chub from the close-up contact with a giant dog dick. Unfortunately, that puts his groin at eye level with Kai. The dog stands, whining, and his enormous cock hangs almost to the floor. Kai shoves his snout into Stiles’ tan chinos, licking and making a distinct wet mark against the outline of his half-hard cock. Stiles covers himself, pushing the dog away.
“Kai.” It’s one word, but the dog stops immediately, sitting back on his haunches, cock still on display, and waiting for more orders from his master. Stiles can’t stop staring. It’s grown larger than it was. The tapered cock is pink and a deeper color near the base, where a bulge hides in the furred appendage. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Stiles is hard. From a dog. A fucking dog’s dick has gotten him hard. Maybe he could pass it off as being around Derek. He’d rather come on to the handsome stranger and take that embarrassment than this one. Derek will never give him one of Kai’s puppies if Stiles has perverted thoughts about his dog. Stiles is a sick fuck and has more than likely ruined his chances.
“It’s okay,” Derek says, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I remember what it was like the first time I saw one. A lot of emotions, and way too many hormones.” He chuckles, pointing to his own cock and the pronounced bulge in his coveralls. “Besides, I don’t think it’s only because of the dog.” He brushes his hand along Stiles’ cheek, giving him a heated stare he feels to the tips of his toes. “I like you, Stiles. I like you very much.”
“You do?” Stiles squeaks.
Derek smiles. “You seem like you have an honest heart.” He drops his hand, adjusting himself, tightening the sleeves around his waist. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then maybe we can grab some lunch.”