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Panic had started the chase, the sick kick of fight or flight that had been securely tipped towards flight with a single bite, but now it looked like Stiles' faulty reactions to danger were going to end it.
Several of the wolves in pursuit seemed to have dropped, the pack falling away as their interest in Stiles waned, their interest in each other far more important. The initial baying howls had quieted, the delight of playing chase dying off. Now, simple growls and subvocal communication sufficed, low rumbles that even Stiles' newly heightened senses struggled to pick up. There was a constant background blare of the 'predators' alarm at the back of his skull, stronger than anything he'd ever experienced as human. It had eased off as the pack dropped away, thankfully.
As the alarm had eased, Stiles' panic had wound down, and he'd been able to start focusing on other things. Like the wind in his hair, the crunch of leaves and twigs under his feet, or the fact that it was just the Hales chasing him now, musky arousal rising from them both when the wind blew the right direction.
This was part of the old courting rituals for wolves, after all. Stiles had seen this, read about it. He knew full well that they loved the chase, the thrill of the hunt in their blood, the scent of someone they wanted to mate coating their nostrils and tongue. Right now, Stiles was basically wolfnip for these two.
Peter had never stopped flirting at inappropriate times, in ways that varied between a good argument, unstable psychosis, and pet names that made Stiles shiver as Peter manipulated and tugged strings until he got his way. Derek, on the other hand, had only started flirting after that first term at college, when Stiles had come back well fucked and more confident. His approach was much more straightforward, heated glances and pick up lines and smiles that were only for each other.
And then this term had happened, with a bite that Stiles had tried to keep under wraps. It was hard, especially since all his original bunny traits had been amplified. More twitchy, more paranoid, instincts screaming predator any time a 'wolf had stepped into his space. Stiles had been unable to hold himself still in Derek's presence, been unable to be alone with him, his insistent and anxious brain screaming for him to escape-
And Derek had 'gotten the hint' and backed off, much to Stiles' horror. He'd gone home, cursing and angrily jerking off four times in a row.
"Little rabbit," snarled Peter, far too close for comfort. Stiles kicked the pace up a notch, fear pulsing in his chest for a moment, cock throbbing in time with his skittering heart.
"Stiles," rumbled Derek, flanking him from the opposite direction to Peter.
"Slut," hissed Peter, a burst of speed allowing him to catch up to Stiles for a moment. Something hot twisted in his gut.
Lactic acid burnt through Stiles' legs, and he stumbled. A minor error, but Derek took the opportunity and pounced. They tumbled to the ground in a pile of flailing limbs as Stiles allowed his rabbit brain to take over.
"Stay," growled Derek, sinking human teeth into the nape of Stiles' neck. Stiles' body threw confused signals of fear and arousal, freezing him and making him fall limp, vulnerable to the predator. His dick throbbed again, and Stiles twitched his hips, needy. Stiles' mind, on the other hand, was a cacophony of filth, racing with scenarios and ideas and flashes of all the ways he might be able to get fucked and used and toyed with.
Peter snarled at Derek, somewhere over Stiles' head. The answering snarl back prodded a part of Stiles' brain that he'd have rather kept hidden from the wolves right now, but he just couldn't help it-
Stiles moaned into the dirt as Peter laughed at his stupid ears. "Does he have a tail, nephew?" Peter teased, smirking when Stiles squeaked at the large hand wrapping firmly around his fluffy tail. He also definitely wasn't about to admit to the asshole that his eyes crossed too.
Crouching down, that stupid smirk still plastered to his face, Peter reached out to rub the velveteen fur of Stiles' ears between his finger tips. "When you're done, nephew-"
"No," growled Derek, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.
"One wolf alone cannot satisfy a rabbit," said Peter, sounding almost sympathetic, perfectly condescending. Stiles humped the floor while Derek growled harder. "Don't believe me?"
"Fuck off, uncle c-creeper," Stiles managed to say, stuttering over the last word.
With a final tug to Stiles' ear, Peter stood. He dropped a couple of lube packets in front of Derek, and Stiles decided not to mention that, as his body had decided that he now had a raging sex drive, his ass also self-lubricated, because that sounded way too much like he'd been bitten by a rogue sex toy. "Call me when you need me," Peter said, not even looking back as he disappeared into the trees.
With the disappearance of Peter, Derek dropped any pretence of being more than a feral animal, growling and rutting against Stiles' thighs.
"Pants off!" gasped Stiles reaching to grab at Derek's hips. "Please? I need- Derek, please."
Apparently pleased by Stiles' deference, Derek lifted up enough to yank at the back of Stiles' jeans, pulling them down just enough to gain access to his hole with those thick fingers. His other hand was wrapped at the base of one of Stiles' stupid fuzzy ears, using it to manhandle Stiles until his neck was bared to the wolf.
Already feeling several levels of smug that all had to do with the fact that he was about to get filled, Stiles moaned and canted his hips up, back, a shiver shooting goosebumps along his spine as Derek licked and nuzzled at his neck.
There were several aching moments where that was all Derek did, even if Stiles pressed upwards into his touch, whining and hoping. Eventually, Derek's roughened voice, distorted around fangs, rumbled into Stiles' ear. "Mine," he said, placing a rasping lick along Stiles' jawline.
"Yeah, fuck, please Derek-" whined Stiles, trying to grind upwards, against the heavy length that brushed against him.
There was no preparation, no gentle opening up, only the rip of a lube packet and the smears of slick that dripped from Stiles' hole to ease the way of a first, desperate thrust. It was so needy, so consuming, the aching stretch of Stiles' little bunny hole, Derek's hand wrapping around his tail in a bid to gain more leverage, force himself in deeper, harder. Stiles scrabbled at the ground, gasping and panting as his body turned the ache and burn into pleasure that squirmed in his stomach. His cock twitched, blurting precum onto the ground.
"Little bunny," crooned Derek, and Stiles couldn't even retort, strung between the points of Derek's body and the forest floor. "So eager to be fucked," he continued, as if Stiles wasn't whimpering and purring on his cock.
The first snaps of the werewolf's hips were deep, claiming thrusts, sending liquid heat all through Stiles. He had no strength to go against Derek's grip, to press back into Derek's movements, no ability to be more than a toy in the strong grasp that Derek maintained. His hand slipped from Stiles' ear to scruff him at the back of his neck, sending signals that Stiles had never experienced all through him, encouraging him to become limp and malleable in Derek's hands, the perfect prey.
Derek kept up an approving rumble, pleased and smug. His hips rolled, worked with such fluid ease, and Stiles could practically see his own brain, his eyes just having rolled that far back, continuously, as every strong thrust sent sparking pleasure up his nerves. He could feel the wetness running down his thighs, his own slick that made the slide of Derek's cock inside him oh so easy. It was instinct that had him clamping down on Derek's cock, milking it in time with each thrust and throb.
But it wasn't enough. Stiles was so close to his orgasm, he could practically taste it on the evening air. "Please," he begged, "Please- I need-"
Derek growled, a thundering sound that reverberated straight up Stiles' spine, and increased the brutality of his thrusts, so nearly what Stiles needed.
"Please-" Stiles whimpered again, "plea- oh!" Derek's claws bit into the skin of Stiles' neck, and the need, the pleasure, the pain- it all coalesced and tipped him over the edge. His brain fired, reducing him to instinct and the hot, intense pleasure of orgasm. He was prey, shuddering in the grasp of a predator, strung out on a wolf's claws, feeling the howl of Derek's own orgasm like static in the air, as Derek filled him with seed.
They both fell still, breathing hard, sides heaving with exertion. Derek wasn't softening, and Stiles could feel himself milking Derek's cock with each aftershock. Hot blood welled at his neck, dripping to the forest floor, and Stiles could smell the metallic tang of it, could feel the itch of healing skin.
Carefully tugging his claws from Stiles' skin, Derek leaned forwards, placing his hand on the crackle of dry leaves. Stiles wobbled, his elbows giving up, his hands slipping to the mud underneath.
"Please Stiles," murmured Derek. "Let me- I just-"
Without another thought, no real concern as to what Derek was really asking for, Stiles nodded enthusiastically.
The rippling crunch and cracks of bones, the wet tear and healing of flesh made his heart jump in fear- arousal- scarerousal? Whatever it was, the prey animal in Stiles' chest leapt, even as Stiles turned his head to admire the beast behind him, something more monster than wolf or man. He moaned, desperate and needy, eyes raking over the unholy combination of beta shift and wolf, just bigger. Seams had popped, fabric had frayed, and Derek was left in mere scraps of clothes by the sudden expansion of his entire body. The paw in the dirt by Stiles' head could easily encompass his skull, whilst the one still tugging on his tail only needed one finger to hold the bunny in place.
"Want to… knot," growled Derek through a maw that didn't really lend itself to speech anymore. Stiles clenched at the thought, the idea of being so soundly filled, broken open beyond his wildest dreams.
"Please, Derek, Derbear, please," Stiles begged hoarsely, letting out a cry and he was slowly dragged up Derek's freshly engorged cock.
He'd never gone soft, not really, and the length that throbbed inside him had only gotten thicker, longer as Derek had changed. Stiles could only whimper as a clawed hand slipped from his tufted tail to wrap around his waist, engulfing his slight body. Stiles let his head loll backwards as he was pulled upright, barely even reaching the wolf's shoulder. Derek could manhandle him even easier like this, and Stiles' poor horny brain felt like it was boiling out of his stupid twitchy and sensitive ears. This was the ultimate product of all his most shameful jerk offs, when he'd told himself firmly that he absolutely was not envisioning any of his packmates in place of monsters that dwarfed their prey.
But he had been. He'd imagined Derek and Peter and even Scott hadn't been off limits, which had honestly made Stiles feel even nastier, like he'd walked straight out of Alabama, and he'd never been able to scrub off the shame of imagining people so close, imagining them as monsters.
"Stop thinking," Derek growled in his ear, voice morphed by a voice box that wasn't quite right and a maw that wasn't made for words, pushing Stiles down on his cock. Stiles arched, eyes going glazed as all thoughts fled his brain, squeaking like a fucking chew toy… but definitely not thinking. He was so full it almost hurt, and if he hadn't been fixated on the leaves above them, Stiles was sure he would have seen his stomach bulging with the sheer length and girth that filled and filled and filled him.
Derek's tongue swiped at his face, and Stiles turned his head to press kisses to the edge of Derek's lips, pressing their tongues together before the wolf's tongue slipped into his mouth. Stiles' cheeks bulged, and thick saliva dripped from Derek's maw.
Stiles choked, overwhelmed, and his cock twitched. Heat spread through his body as his mouth was plundered. It was too much and not enough all at once. His cry was muffled by that tongue as Derek lifted his entire body up and forced him downwards again. The immense strength contained in the wolf's body left Stiles feeling tiny and fragile in his paws.
Finally, Derek withdrew his tongue, lifting and pulling once more, faster. It was all Stiles could do to cling onto the huge furred forearm, shuddering at each heated gust of breath that brushed past him, Derek drooling on his shoulder.
Turning his head, Stiles pressed kisses to the slack maw, licking up the side of a sharply pointed fang, sucking it into his mouth and hearing Derek's breath catch. He couldn't control the noises that dripped from his lips, punched out as they were by each brutal thrust.
Each thrust became harder, forcing the beginning of the swelling of Derek’s knot inside Stiles’ hole. Derek grunted with the effort, Stiles echoing the sounds back to him.
“Close,” grunted Derek in Stiles’ ear, tightening his grip on Stiles' waist and pulling Stiles down, right onto his knot. It was too big to tug out, filling and splitting and Stiles wailed into the forest, his voice bouncing off the trees. He stared into the sky, unseeing, as stars exploded behind his eyes, and Derek howled his appreciation to the moon. His cock spat more white seed to the ground, his body clutching and milking Derek's knot, a strange heat filling him, starting to bloat his stomach.
Then silence fell, aside from their heaving pants for oxygen, rustling leaves the only other sound. "Fuck," huffed Stiles, and Derek grunted in agreement, shuddering his way through another wave of orgasm. "How long?" he whispered, not wanting to break the spell of the quiet forest, and Derek nuzzled his cheek.
"Ten," he growled, through an inadequate voice box, and Stiles closed his eyes, letting the solid heartbeat resound in his head. He drifted, comforted by the warm furred body behind him, feeling pleasantly sated for the first time since he'd turned into a wererabbit. He rubbed his hand over his rounded belly, luxuriating in the total lack of anxiety that usually clattered and surged through him with every beat of his heart.
Finally, wetness started to trickle down Stiles' thighs as the knot loosened inside him, and with the crackle of bones and the ripple of breaking and reforming muscle, Derek transformed back. "Can you walk?" he asked, still clutching at Stiles' waist, even though his feet now touched the ground.
Stiles hummed, twisting in his arms to kiss him. "Yeah," he said, an embarrassing crack to his voice. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I can."
Snuffling at his hairline, Derek tugged on an ear. "You can put these away if you want to, now."
It was easy to lean on each other as Stiles righted his clothes and Derek shook off the scraps, Stiles floating on the warmth of fulfillment. Even the stumbling long walk back to the edge of the preserve—with semen leaking into the seat of his pants—wasn't enough to wipe away the warm glow. It was only once Stiles had stumbled into Derek's car—Derek conveniently whipping a spare set of clothes from somewhere in there—and they were partway to the loft that the itchy, twitchy need came back. It was uncontrollable, an animal under his skin.
The replete sensation was giving way to the hollowness inside him, powering the arousal that grew like kudzu through his insides, and Stiles couldn't get his mind off the slavering maw, the way that Derek had been so big, the teeth glinting in the darkness. Maybe it was fucked up that his dick was chubbing up and twitching at this more monstrous side of Derek, but, God, it had been filthy hot.
"Stiles," Derek gritted out, rolling his window down.
Stiles eyed the bulge in Derek's pants. "Don't crash," he murmured, leaning over to mouth wetly at the throbbing length encased in Derek's jeans. The wolf huffed a breath and grabbed Stiles by the back of the neck, hauling him upright.
"Stiles, no, I can't fucking think when you smell like this."
"Then don't think," protested Stiles, trying to break free.
"I will crash," growled Derek, and that lit up every single synapse in Stiles' brain. Predator, predator! screamed his instincts. It was enough to subdue him just long enough for Derek to push him back into his seat properly. "We're so nearly there, hold out."
Stiles pouted, settling back and palming himself through his pants. Well if Derek wasn't going to fill the void right now…
"I will tie you up," Derek said, his jaw flexing and the steering wheel creaking under his hands as his knuckles turned white. It sent a shiver through Stiles to dwell on that image, from his curling toes to the tips of his now-fluffy ears.
He licked his dry lips, thankfully noting that the turn to Derek's loft was coming up fast. "Yeah, let's try that next."
"Stiles."
There was probably werewolf precision involved in parking, and there was certainly werewolf and wererabbit speed involved in bounding up the stairs.
"Mine," Derek growled, licking all over Stiles' neck as he pinned him to the door.
Stiles grinned into the metal, praising the bite mentally. Who knew it'd be so fun?
Peter arrived when he was summoned, and stared long and hard between the two of them. "I warned you, nephew," he gloated, already starting to strip off. Stiles bounded over, delighted. "Stiles will need far more than just one or two wolves to keep him satisfied."
Derek snarled, wincing as the aborted lunge pulled on his groin, pressing the frozen peas tighter into his crotch.
Stiles looked a little shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Derek," he whined, even as he pressed into Peter's arms. "I just... It's an itch under my skin, all the time, and I'm so empty when you're not inside me."
"Perhaps some more... Experienced hands will be needed to keep you in line," suggested Peter, slipping his fingers into Stiles' hair. "I can arrange that for you, darling. Starting with me."
A wicked smile curved Peter's lips, and Stiles found himself responding in kind.