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Stiles had followed Derek like a lost duckling from the moment he could walk — always babbling and holding out his hands to be picked up whenever the — at the time — youngest Hale appeared.

Derek would wrinkle his nose and huff as his mother insisted he be nice and pick up the baby. At eight years old, Derek hardly wanted anything to do with two-year-old Stiles.

But since their families were close, there wasn’t much Derek could do to avoid the little pup everyone called Mischief.

And as they grew, so too did their bond. Derek developed a soft spot for the pup, teaching him how to talk, how to read, and later, how to play video games.

When Derek presented at twelve years old as an alpha, everyone expected it to dampen their friendship.

Alphas — especially young ones — usually focused more on omegas or girls once they presented, the instinct to find a mate and breed stronger than the instinct to coddle pups that weren’t their own.

But to everyone’s surprise, Derek still smiled and held out his hand to six-year-old Stiles —

— who accepted it with a gap-toothed grin.

After nearly a year of this behavior, that’s when the adults’ opinions began to shift.

“How cute,” Stiles’ mother would coo, watching them together. “They’re going to be mates.”

“Little Stiles must be an omega,” Mrs. Hale would say, both women giggling and cooing like it was the most charming thing in the world.

Derek would flush and growl at their comments, grabbing a confused Stiles by the hand and dragging him away.

“What’s a mate?” Stiles asked, looking up at Derek with wide, curious eyes once they’d retreated to Derek’s bedroom—far from the gossiping adults.

Derek paused, giving Stiles a strange, unreadable look.

“You’re too young to worry about that,” he said softly, making Stiles pout.

“Nu-uh!” Stiles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You haven’t even had your first kiss,” Derek pointed out, and Stiles’ face turned bright red.

“Have so!” he lied. He didn’t understand what kisses had to do with mates.

“Stop lying.” Derek leaned down to pinch his cheek. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Stiles huffed indignantly, then—before Derek could react—stood on tiptoes and pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss right on Derek’s lips.

“There! Now—” Stiles squeaked when Derek grabbed him suddenly, eyes flashing bright blue as he pressed his lips firmly back against Stiles’.

Stiles froze, stomach squirming as Derek’s lips moved against his own. He let out a small gasp when a warm tongue brushed over his lips.

Derek jerked back like he’d been burned, chest heaving as he stared at Stiles with wide eyes full of horror.

“Get out,” Derek hissed, stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. “I’m going into rut—Stiles, get out right now!”

“What?” Stiles squeaked, confused. What was a rut?

“Get out!” Derek snarled, loud and sharp, and it startled Stiles.

His chest tightened as confused tears welled in his eyes. He turned and ran, slamming the door behind him.

Downstairs, he burst into tears, fat droplets sliding down his cheeks as he ran straight into his mother’s arms.

“Derek’s so mean! I hate him!” he hiccuped.

“Aww, baby, what happened?” his mother asked gently, stroking his hair.

“He kicked me out,” Stiles mumbled, burying his face against her chest, his tears soaking through her shirt. “Said he’s going into rut.”

His mother had hushed him, pressing a kiss to his head. “Oh, baby, it’s going to be okay. He’ll let you back in after a few days.”

“No,” Stiles sniffled, clinging to her. “I hate him. I want to go home.”

“You don’t mean that,” his mom said gently, brushing his hair back before standing. “But okay. We’ll go home. I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight, okay?”

“I do mean it,” he insisted stubbornly, though his tears started to slow at the mention of food. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Stiles stayed in her arms, refusing to look at or speak to any of the Hales as his mother said goodbye.

The week passed in a blur. Over the weekend, they got new neighbors—a werewolf pup named Scott and his human mother, Melissa.

Stiles and Scott became attached at the hip almost immediately. They were both only children, born the same year, and ended up having a bunch of classes together. It was perfect.

Stiles completely forgot about being mad at Derek… until his mom dropped him off one afternoon to be babysat by him.

He ran inside, grinning and excited to tell Derek all about his new friend. They’d have the whole house to themselves! Derek’s parents were with Laura at the hospital while she had her baby, and Cora was off at summer camp.

But Stiles froze when he spotted someone sitting beside Derek on the couch.

In his spot.

“Stiles!” Derek greeted with a smile. The girl turned toward him too, beaming brightly.

“Hi! You must be Stiles! Derek’s told me so much about you.” She patted the seat beside her. “Come sit! We were just about to watch some Netflix.”

Stiles frowned, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t quite understand. “No, thanks,” he said shortly, turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen.

“Stiles!” Derek called, his tone suddenly sharp with scolding.

Stiles ignored him, climbing into a kitchen chair and dropping his backpack on the counter with a huff.

Derek found him in the kitchen five minutes later. The girl—Stiles didn’t even know her name—was still in the living room, distracted by whatever show was playing.

Stiles didn’t look up as Derek approached, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his face turned toward the wall.

“What’s your problem?” Derek asked, not unkindly, but clearly annoyed.

Stiles didn’t answer. He sniffed once, loudly, and kicked his legs back and forth under the chair.

“You’re being rude,” Derek added, stepping closer. “She was just trying to be nice.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles muttered, still not meeting Derek’s eyes. “She’s in my spot.”

Derek blinked. “What?”

“She’s sitting in my spot,” Stiles repeated, louder now, voice thick. “The one next to you.”

Derek stared at him, caught off guard. “Stiles… it’s just a couch.”

“No, it’s not!” Stiles snapped, whipping around to glare at him. “That’s my spot next to you. You always save it for me.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. He looked a little confused, but also… guilty?

“I didn’t know it mattered so much,” he said after a pause.

“Well, it does!” Stiles stood, grabbing his backpack again. “You yelled at me. Then you kicked me out, and now you’ve replaced me.”

“I didn’t replace you,” Derek said, stepping in front of the door when Stiles tried to leave. “You are still my best friend.”

“Well, I have a new best friend now," Stiles snapped. “Scott’s nicer than you. And he doesn’t kick me out for no reason.”

Derek flinched, the guilt on his face plain as day now. “That wasn’t no reason,” he muttered. “I told you—I was going into rut, and it wasn’t safe—”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Stiles shouted. “I just wanted to be around you and you yelled at me!”

Silence fell heavy between them.

Stiles’ shoulders shook with the effort not to cry again. He hated crying especially in front of Derek.

Then Derek sighed and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him. Stiles stiffened for half a second before melting into the hug, backpack dropping to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Stiles sniffled into his shirt. “Don’t let other people sit in my spot.”

“I won’t,” Derek said quietly. “It’s yours.”

Turned out, the girl on the couch was named Paige — a girl Derek’s age, his girlfriend and a freshly presented omega.

Stiles didn’t care for her.

She was very friendly, sure, but she stole Derek’s attention away — and Stiles wanted Derek all to himself.

He’d been secretly happy when he learned that Paige broke up with Derek after only three months.

Derek seemed a little sad at first, but Stiles showered him with affection and attention — and Derek quickly forgot all about Paige.

It wasn’t until two years later, at the age of ten, that Stiles finally learned what a rut was. His father had sat him down and given him the talk.

It had been awkward, to say the least. Stiles had about a million questions—about ruts, heats, how you knew when they happened, and everything else in between.

His father had answered as best he could, clearly uncomfortable, but he hadn’t avoided a single question. What answers he didn’t know, he looked up right alongside Stiles.

Afterward, Stiles spent several hours falling down a rabbit hole, diving deep into the history of ruts, heats, and secondary genders.

One fascinating thing he learned? It’s believed that Spartan warriors were mostly alphas who engaged in homosexual relationships, which supposedly strengthened their unity and made them even fiercer in battle.

It was really interesting stuff!

He landed on Derek’s bed with a bounce. The alpha growled at him, but Stiles ignored it. Derek didn’t like him jumping on the bed—shame, really, since it was very bouncy.

“So, what’s it like?” he asked, brimming with curiosity.

Derek grunted. “What’s what like?”

“Knotting.”

Derek choked, whipping his head around to face him. “What?”

“Dad gave me the talk yesterday—about alphas, betas, and omegas. You’re an alpha,” Stiles said, gesturing to the bulk of the teenager sprawled beside him. “So what’s it like? Popping a knot?”

“I’m not talking to you about this,” Derek muttered, rolling onto his side to face away from him.

Stiles pouted. “Come on, Derek,” he whined, crawling closer. “I’m curious. Everyone says I’m going to be an omega, so I want to know what I’ll be missing out on.”

He poked Derek’s side, earning another growl. Derek was always extra growly around this time of month—as his rut approached.

Stiles huffed. “Fine. I’ll just ask someone else. Maybe Parrish—”

He didn’t get to finish. With a sudden snarl, Derek moved, grabbing Stiles’ shoulders and pinning him flat to the mattress.

“Stay away from Parrish,” Derek snarled, eyes flashing bright blue. “You hear me? You want anything from an alpha—you come to me.”

He leaned in closer, their breaths mingling, hot and sharp in the space between them.

“Only to me.”

Stiles’ face flushed, his mind flashing to the childhood kiss they once shared. His heartbeat quickened.

“Okay, Derek,” he whispered, eyes darting away in submission. “Only you.”

Derek rumbled low in his chest, clearly pleased, and pressed their cheeks together, scent-marking him.

Stiles breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of pack and protection.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, okay? I promise,” Derek whispered.

Stiles gave a soft nod, content for now.

As time passed, Derek got a second girlfriend, a beta named Kate. She was older than Derek, and Stiles liked her even less than Paige.

At least Kate didn’t steal Derek’s attention at the Hale house—she couldn’t.

Mrs. Hale liked Kate even less than Stiles did and had forbidden Derek from seeing her.

But that didn’t stop them from sneaking around.

Stiles watched as Derek’s hand cupped Kate’s breast, the beta moaning softly as she arched into his touch.

“Oh, Derek,” she breathed, tilting her neck to offer it to him as they made out on the couch.

Stiles was supposed to be in bed. His parents were out of town for the night, and Derek had come over to babysit and stay the night. They’d spent the whole day together—laughing, playing games, sharing snacks. It wasn’t until long after Derek had sent him to bed that Stiles heard giggling. A woman’s voice.

Curious, he’d crept back downstairs… and now he stood frozen in the doorway, hidden in the shadows, wide-eyed as Derek’s hand slid into Kate’s underwear.

Kate moaned again, louder this time, as Derek’s hand moved between her legs.

“Shh, don’t wake Stiles,” Derek whispered, lowering her onto the couch. Their bodies shifted together, slow and intimate.

“Sorry,” Kate murmured, spreading her legs as Derek settled between them.

Stiles bit his bottom lip, something hot and unfamiliar coiling low in his stomach — shame, confusion, and something else he didn’t have a name for.

“Do you have a condom?” Kate whispered, helping Derek tug off his shirt.

“Yeah,” Derek fumbled in his pockets before pulling out a foil packet. He tossed his jeans to the side.

The sound of it tearing filled the air, and Stiles watched, transfixed in the darkness, as Derek slid it on.

“Ready?” Derek whispered.

“Fuck yeah, give it to me,” Kate said, grinning as she hooked her legs around Derek’s waist, blocking Stiles’ view of the alpha’s cock.

“Show me what an alpha can do,” she growled, moaning as Derek thrust forward to the hilt.

“Fuck,” Derek growled, the sound sending a shiver down Stiles’ spine.

"Derek,” Kate gasped, throwing her head back against the cushions.

Derek grunted, rolling his hips faster, and Stiles’ gaze tracked a bead of sweat as it rolled down Derek’s back.

“Yes, just like that,” Kate moaned, arching her back as they moved together.

The air filled with their noises — husky groans, high-pitched moans — and the wet slap of Derek’s thrusts.

Stiles’ gut tightened, and he shifted on his feet, the strange feeling growing stronger as he watched them.

His breathing picked up, subconsciously matching Derek and Kate’s faster rhythm.

Stiles couldn’t say how long it lasted — time blurred as he watched their bodies move together — until it suddenly ended, Kate moaning and Derek grunting before they both stilled.

As Derek pulled back and moved to stand — still naked — Stiles instinctively took a step back.

The creak of a floorboard echoed through the room.

Stiles froze.

Derek’s gaze snapped to the darkened hallway, landing on him immediately. His mouth opened, about to speak—

Stiles bolted.

He took the stairs two at a time, panic driving his limbs, and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. His fingers shook as he locked it. Heart pounding, he scrambled back into bed, yanking the covers over his head.

Oh no.

Derek had seen him.

Derek had seen, that he had seen.

Several minutes passed in silence, Stiles’ chest rising and falling with sharp, shallow breaths.

Then came a tentative knock.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was quiet, followed by the jiggle of the doorknob. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles said nothing, curling tighter under the blankets.

“Open the door,” Derek growled softly, and the sound sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself out of bed and padded over to the door, heart hammering in his chest. He swallowed hard and slowly unlocked it.

The door opened immediately.

The scent hit him first—strong alpha musk, sweat, and Kate. Stiles wrinkled his nose.

“You stink,” he blurted before he could stop himself, as he stared at Derek's naked chest.

“Yeah…” Derek winced, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, about what you saw—”

“I didn’t see anything,” Stiles lied quickly, looking away, cheeks burning with shame.

“Okay… but if you had,” Derek said gently, “I’d want you to know I’m sorry.”

“And I would say it’s cool. You’re an alpha. You have needs. I get it.” Stiles shrugged, pretending it didn’t ache like hell.

Derek’s expression twisted with guilt as he looked at him. “Stiles…”

Stiles blinked hard, trying not to cry. It was stupid. Childish. He would not cry.

He turned to retreat—but warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him back against a solid chest.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered.

“Let me go!” Stiles sniffled, trying to squirm away, clawing at Derek’s arms.

“Stiles—”

“No!” he hissed, biting down hard on Derek’s bicep, little fangs sinking into skin.

Derek growled, the sound low and warning—but he didn’t let go. In fact, he held tighter.

“Stiles, listen to me!” Derek snapped, his voice carrying the weight of his alpha command.

Stiles froze.

But he didn’t release his bite. The faint taste of blood hit his tongue.

“I’ll break up with Kate,” Derek murmured, pressing his cheek to Stiles’ hair. “If that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ breath hitched. Slowly, he released his jaw and sucked in air.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I want that.”

“Okay,” Derek said, exhaling against him.

Stiles’ heart skipped. “Okay?” he repeated, staring wide-eyed at his Batman poster on the far wall.

“Yeah,” Derek’s breath ruffled his hair. “Whatever you want.”

Stiles turned, slowly, peering up at him. “Would you stay?” he asked, grabbing onto Derek’s forearms. “Sleep in my bed with me?”

Derek’s expression shifted, lips parting like he wanted to protest.

“Please,” Stiles said, voice desperate. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to sleep otherwise.”

Derek’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding before he gave a curt nod.

Stiles’ heart bloomed with warmth. Derek was going to dump Kate. Derek was going to stay.

Derek crawled into bed, pulling back the covers and holding them open so Stiles could slide in beside him.

Stiles’ heart pounded as he crawled in, pressing close, instinctively rubbing his cheek against Derek, desperate to erase the lingering scent of Kate.

Derek’s hand found his back, moving in slow, comforting circles that had Stiles’ eyes dropping shut almost immediately.

And as he drifted off, wrapped up in Derek’s scent and heartbeat, he thought that if he had to stay right here forever…

he wouldn’t mind at all.

In the morning he woke to something hard pressing against his stomach.

Mumbling sleepily, Stiles only snuggled closer to Derek’s heat.

Derek sucked in a sharp breath, his body going completely still under Stiles’ arms.

“Derek?” Stiles murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He felt Derek stiffen and start to pull away, but Stiles tightened his hold, pressing in closer, unwilling to let him go yet.

It had been so long since they’d cuddled like this.

Derek’s erection pressed more insistently against his stomach, hot and heavy.

Curious, he pressed into it.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groaned, the sound sending a shiver racing across Stiles’ skin. “You can’t be doing that.”

“Why not?” Stiles whispered, peeking up at him through sleep-heavy lashes.

Derek’s breath hitched, his eyes glowing faintly blue. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me,” Stiles whispered back, meaning every word.

“Stiles…”

“Please, Derek?” he breathed, reaching down, curiosity winning out as he cupped Derek through his sweats, feeling the heavy weight throb under his palm.

Derek immediately grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away. “No.”

The word was sharp, final.

Stiles blinked, tears burning in his eyes at the rejection he hadn’t been prepared for.

He sat up, looking away as Derek sighed.

He tugged at his wrist, wanting to flee, but Derek held him firm.

“You have no idea how tempting it is,” Derek whispered, his voice low in the darkness of Stiles’ bedroom. “How badly I want to.”

Stiles glanced at him through tear-clumped lashes. “You do?” he whispered, sniffling softly.

“More than anything,” Derek groaned, reaching down to cup himself.

Stiles’ eyes tracked the movement, breath hitching in his throat.

“Can…” Stiles licked his lips, his stomach fluttering with heat as Derek’s gaze locked onto the motion, dark and hungry. “Can I watch you?”

“Fuck,” Derek muttered, closing his eyes and pressing his head back against the pillows. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

Stiles’ heart raced as he eagerly shifted closer, barely breathing as he watched Derek rub himself through his pants, then push them down.

Derek’s cock bobbed free, thick and flushed, and Stiles’ mouth went dry at the sight.

Derek was uncut, the base of his cock holding a thick thatch of dark curls, a large vein bulging on the underside of the shaft.

Stiles couldn’t look away. His cheeks burned, but he didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, just watched as Derek wrapped a large hand around himself and gave a slow, shuddering stroke.

Watched the way the skin peeled back, revealing a slick head, before it disappeared again when Derek's hand moved up.

A low, rumbling groan vibrated from Derek’s chest, sending shivers down Stiles’ spine. He shifted closer instinctively, the blankets pooling around his legs.

“You’re… huge,” Stiles breathed, voice shaking with raw honesty.

Derek opened his eyes, pupils blown wide and glowing faintly blue in the low light. His hand moved again, slower this time, like he was letting Stiles savor every detail.

“You shouldn’t be watching this,” Derek rasped, though there was no real heat behind the words.

“I want to,” Stiles whispered, his hands fisting the fabric of his pants.

Derek’s pace faltered for a moment, as if the words had physically hit him, before he stroked himself more firmly, his hips giving a small, involuntary thrust into his hand.

Stiles felt his own body react, heat pooling low in his belly. His fingers twitched against the blanket, desperate to touch, to feel.

“Stiles…” Derek groaned again—a warning and a plea tangled together.

“Please. Can’t I touch you? Just a little?” Stiles whispered, eyes glued to Derek’s cock.

“Fuck,” Derek growled, his head shaking in a ‘no,’ even as his lips said something entirely different. “Okay.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat, a wide smile breaking across his face as Derek grabbed his hand.

Slowly, Derek guided Stiles’ smaller hand over his own, wrapping both their hands around his thick shaft.

Stiles gasped at the heat of it, the way Derek’s cock twitched beneath his palm.

“Like this,” Derek murmured, moving their hands together in a slow, steady rhythm.

Stiles followed eagerly, awestruck by the sounds Derek made—soft grunts and gasps, so unlike the often stoic, growly Derek he knew during the day.

He felt every throb, every twitch, the way Derek’s hips subtly rocked up to meet their joined grip.

Derek was panting, a soft growl rumbling low in his throat, and it made Stiles’ stomach flip wildly with need and pride — he was the one making Derek lose control.

Stiles’ hand moved a little more confidently now, guided by Derek’s rough, warm palm.

The skin was hot, and velvety smooth, the slid up and down slick and messy.

Fluid dribbled from the tip, smearing down and coating their fingers.

"That's it."

Derek grunted, squeezing Stiles' hand and encouraging him to move faster.

Stiles' breathing hitched, chest heaving, as he watched the tip appear and disappear between their fingers.

“Just like that,” Derek groaned, his head pressing harder back against the pillows, his body trembling.

Stiles bit his lip, his free hand clinging to Derek’s arm, feeling the muscle tense under his fingers. He moved faster, tightening his fingers slightly when Derek shuddered.

“Stiles—” Derek gasped, and then he was coming, hot and thick over both their hands, hips jerking helplessly.

Stiles froze, eyes wide, heart thundering as he stared at the mess they’d made together.

Derek slumped back against the pillows, dragging Stiles with him, wrapping strong arms around him before Stiles could overthink or pull away.

“Good… so good,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ hair, pressing repeated kisses to the crown of his head.

Stiles melted into him, face burning, but smiling shyly against Derek’s chest. His own cock throbbed, trapped between them, almost forgotten in the haze of warmth and affection.

He could hear Derek’s heartbeat, racing steady and strong beneath his ear—thump thump thump—so loud it seemed to echo through him.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Derek whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down Stiles’ spine.

“Sometimes,” Stiles admitted, cheeks heating more, “but never like… that.” He pressed his cheek more firmly against Derek’s chest, grounding himself.

His mind flickered back to how Derek had touched Kate—confident and sure.

“Do you want to touch me?” he asked, voice small but brave.

Derek’s breath hitched audibly, a sharp gasp filling the quiet space. “More than anything,” he rasped.

Stiles licked his lips, nerves coiling tight in his stomach. “You can… if you want.”

Derek moved so fast Stiles gasped, finding himself flipped onto his back, staring up at Derek’s flushed face with wide, trusting eyes.

“Yes,” Derek growled, then gentled his tone. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you,” Stiles whispered, heart hammering against his ribs.

With careful fingers, Derek pushed Stiles’ pajama bottoms down just enough to free him, and Stiles whimpered as the cool air hit his flushed skin.

He tried to cover himself, feeling a rush of shyness, but Derek’s hands gently stopped him.

“Let me see you,” Derek murmured.

Stiles chewed his bottom lip, giving a tentative nod.

Derek’s hand wrapped around him, firm and warm, and Stiles almost jumped out of his skin, the sensation overwhelming.

“Easy,” Derek whispered, stroking him slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto Stiles’ every reaction.

Stiles bit down on his lip to keep from moaning too loudly, his whole body trembling as Derek’s thumb swept over the sensitive head, smearing the slick already leaking out.

“You’re so sensitive,” Derek murmured, voice thick with awe, his hand speeding up slightly. “So beautiful.”

Stiles sobbed out a breath, his hips stuttering as pleasure built fast and sharp in his gut. “It feels weird,” he whimpered.

“Yeah? Tell me, what’s it feel like?” Derek asked, his voice a rough, tender rumble in the air.

“Like… like I need to pee?” Stiles whispered, soft and unsure, shaking his head even as Derek’s hand kept moving.

“It’s not pee,” Derek murmured, his voice deepening as his fingers toyed with the sensitive tip. “That’s the urge to come. It’s okay—give in to it.”

Stiles shook his head furiously, whimpering. “No, it’s—”

“Shh,” Derek soothed.

His hand moved faster, squeezing the little cocklet gently but firmly.

Stiles glanced down, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Derek’s hand stroked him.

“I—Derek, I’m—” he cried out, his body locking up as he came, hot and messy over Derek’s hand and his own stomach.

His come was thin and watery, dripping down Derek’s fingers and pooling in his belly button.

Derek kept stroking him through it, slow and careful, until Stiles was whining and twitching from overstimulation, letting out soft little whimpers as Derek’s fingers brushed lightly over his balls.

Finally, Derek let go, wiping his hand on the sheets without a care, and gathering Stiles close again.

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest, breath coming in little hiccups, feeling wrung out and safe all at once.

Derek made him promise not to tell anyone — not just about Kate, but about what they had done afterward in Stiles’ bedroom.

He said it had to be their little secret.

Stiles agreed, but only on the condition that Derek didn’t get any more girlfriends.

Derek looked surprisingly pleased as he whispered “of course” into Stiles’ skin — as long as Stiles never got any anyone else.

On Derek’s 17th birthday, when Stiles was 11, Derek’s parents bought him a black Chevy Camaro.

Stiles was in awe when Derek drove it over to show him—and, if he was being honest, he was very jealous.

“Can I start riding with you to school? Please?” he whined, tugging on the leather jacket Derek had taken to wearing.

“And what do I get out of it?” Derek huffed, though his tone was light and teasing as he leaned against the side of the car.

“Come on, Der! Please!” Stiles begged, offering his biggest, most dramatic puppy eyes.

“Fine, but you owe me,” Derek said, smirking as he ruffled Stiles’ hair.

Stiles grinned wide. “Thank you!”

He leaned up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Derek’s larger frame. “You’re the best alpha.”

Derek’s expression darkened, a flicker of heat creeping into his eyes.

“I told you not to call me that in public,” he whispered, his hand cupping the back of Stiles’ neck possessively.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, looking down sheepishly. “It just slipped out.”

“Come on,” Derek murmured, pushing off the car. “I’ll take you for a ride.”

Stiles practically vibrated with excitement as Derek opened the passenger door for him with a little smirk.

“Get in, kid,” Derek teased, ruffling his hair again before Stiles could dodge it.

“I’m not a kid,” Stiles huffed, climbing into the sleek leather seat and running his hands over the dash reverently. “This is so cool.”

Derek chuckled as he slid into the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life with a deep rumble that sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine.

He barely managed to get his seatbelt on before Derek peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing just a little.

“Show off,” Stiles muttered, but his grin was impossible to hide.

“You love it,” Derek said, shooting him a quick side glance that made Stiles’ heart do something weird in his chest.

Maybe it was the way the sunlight caught in Derek’s hair, or the confident way he held the wheel with one hand, but for a second, Stiles forgot how to breathe.

Yeah. He loved it.

Stiles practically bounced in the seat as Derek drove, the Camaro eating up the road like it was nothing.

The ride didn’t last long—practically just a few minutes—but by the time they pulled off the road, Stiles was buzzing with happiness.

“When I get my license, you’re teaching me to drive,” Stiles said, determined.

Derek arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? Think you can handle a car like this?”

“I can handle anything,” Stiles said proudly, puffing out his chest a little.

Derek laughed—low, fond—and ruffled his hair again just because he could. “We’ll see about that, kitten.”

He turned the car off, the engine’s hum dying into silence, leaving only the sound of Derek shifting as he undid his seatbelt.

Stiles watched, insides trembling with nervous anticipation.

“Come here,” Derek murmured, earning a puzzled look.

“Climb into my lap,” Derek explained, patting his thighs. “Facing the steering wheel.”

Stiles blinked, his face burning as he unbuckled his seatbelt and awkwardly climbed over the center console.

Warm, strong hands grabbed his upper arms, helping him settle onto Derek’s lap—a familiar hardness pressing against his bottom.

“What are we doing?” Stiles whispered, trembling as Derek’s hands stroked his sides.

“I thought you could handle anything, kitten,” Derek whispered, lips brushing Stiles’ ear. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Stiles said immediately, his tone honest. He trusted Derek completely; he was just nervous.

“Take this off,” Derek said, tugging lightly at Stiles’ t-shirt.

Stiles obediently lifted his arms, letting Derek pull the fabric over his head and toss it aside.

“And this,” Derek murmured, fingers toying with the waistband of Stiles’ jeans. “I want to see all of you.”

Stiles whimpered but lifted his hips, wiggling out of his jeans and kicking them off along with his shoes.

Derek’s large hands pushed Stiles’ boxers down, letting them fall uselessly to the floorboard.

Goosebumps raced across his skin, and he shivered slightly at the rush of cool air.

“You’re beautiful,” Derek rumbled, placing a chaste kiss to Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles chewed his bottom lip, trying not to shift under Derek’s warm, rough hands as they roamed over his skin, tracing him like Derek wanted to memorize every curve.

His thumb swept over Stiles’ nipple, and Stiles gasped—loud and sharp.

Derek chuckled, hands sliding back down over sensitive thighs, deliberately avoiding key areas before moving back up again.

Stiles squirmed, unable to stay still as Derek’s hands roamed his body, pinching his nipples before rolling them carefully between his fingers.

“Alpha,” he mewled, trembling, his cock twitching and leaking in the open air, hard and aching.

“Yes, kitten?” Derek murmured, his lips brushing Stiles’ ear as he continued to tease his pink, sensitive nipples.

“Please,” Stiles whined, pressing his thighs together desperately, shifting restlessly in Derek’s lap.

“Please, what?” Derek’s voice was a low rumble against his skin, sending shivers racing down Stiles’ spine.

Derek’s lips trailed lower, tracing the line of Stiles’ neck before nipping gently at the skin.

“Touch me,” Stiles pleaded, arching his neck in offering, desperate for more.

“I am touching you, kitten.”

Stiles shook his head, frustration thick in his throat. “No, I mean—touch me here,” he whispered, guiding Derek’s hand lower, wrapping trembling fingers around his cock.

“Oh, I see.” Derek’s voice dropped even lower, smug and heated, as he closed his hand firmly around Stiles, stroking the silky, flushed length.

Stiles’ hips jerked, unable to control the instinctive thrust into Derek’s fist. His whole body trembled with need.

“Alpha,” he mewled again, breaking apart in Derek’s arms.

Derek rumbled low in his chest, the sound vibrating through Stiles where their bodies touched. His hand moved in slow, steady strokes.

"You’re so pretty like this,” Derek whispered, nuzzling behind Stiles’ ear. “So desperate for your alpha.”

Stiles whimpered, his whole body trembling, hips twitching with every stroke. “Only for you,” he gasped, clinging to Derek’s arm, nails digging in lightly.

“That’s right,” Derek growled, tightening his grip just slightly, dragging his palm over the leaking tip. “Only for me.”

Stiles cried out, high and wrecked, his body arching against Derek’s chest. He was close, so close, his cock throbbing helplessly in Derek’s hand.

“You gonna come for me, kitten?” Derek asked, voice dark and full of heat. “Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

Stiles could only nod frantically, the coil in his belly pulling tighter and tighter.

“Good boy,” Derek praised, squeezing just a little harder, twisting his wrist at the tip.

That was it. Stiles shattered with a broken sob of Derek’s name, his whole body spasming as he spilled over Derek’s fist, hot and messy.

Derek kept stroking him through it, gentler now, murmuring soft praises against his hair. “That’s it, beautiful… let it all out… good boy.”

Stiles sagged bonelessly back against Derek, panting, his cheeks flushed and lashes damp. Derek shifted, licking into the curve of Stiles’ neck, scent-marking him possessively, filling the car with the scent of a content alpha.

They stayed like that for a while, Stiles sitting limply in Derek’s lap, the cooling mess on his skin forgotten.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Derek murmured, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ hair. “Then I’ll take you back home.”

"What about you?" Stiles whispered, he could still feel Derek hard and throbbing against his butt.

"I'll take care of it later." Derek said, hands rubbing over Stiles' naked sides. "You've given me a lot to get off to."

Stiles' face flushed, his heart skipping at the mental image, Derek moaning as he stroked himself to completion while thinking of Stiles.

"Okay."

When they pulled back into the driveway, Derek didn’t let him get out right away.

Instead, he leaned back, resting one arm casually across the top of Stiles’ seat, so close Stiles could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You know,” Derek said, voice dropping just a little, “riding with me? That makes you mine. At least at school.”

Stiles blinked up at him, heart pounding.

“Yours?” he echoed, voice small.

Derek’s mouth curled into a smirk, but there was something dangerous in it too—something that made Stiles’ skin prickle.

Like he wanted to pull Stiles back into his lap.

Instead, he shifted in his seat, looming closer, one hand curling firmly around the back of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles froze, wide-eyed, the heat of Derek’s palm burning into his skin.

“You need to understand something,” Derek said, voice low and rough. “You ride with me, you smell like me. You walk into school with my scent all over you.”

Stiles licked his lips nervously. “Is… is that bad?”

Derek’s fingers tightened slightly. “No. It’s good. It keeps the other alphas away.”

His thumb stroked lightly over Stiles’ nape—where one day his mating gland would form—and Stiles shivered, overwhelmed and confused by how good that tiny touch felt.

“But it also means…” Derek leaned in a little closer, breath warm against Stiles’ cheek.

“You’re mine, Stiles. You don’t flirt. You don’t let anyone else touch you. You don’t smell like anyone but me.”

Stiles’ stomach flipped, and he nodded quickly, not trusting his voice.

"Say it."

"I won’t,” he promised breathlessly. “I promise.”

“You’ll ride with me every morning,” Derek said firmly, like it was law.

“Okay,” Stiles whispered, voice trembling.

Derek smiled, looking satisfied.

“Good boy,” Derek murmured, his voice a growl of satisfaction.

When the doors finally unlocked with a loud click, Stiles stumbled out of the Camaro on shaky legs, the ghost of Derek’s touch still burning against his skin.

He already couldn’t wait for the next morning.

When Derek turned 18, he moved out of the Hale family home. He bought a loft—an old, worn-down building—but his family had the money to help fix it up. They planned to renovate the lower floors into rental units, while Derek kept the top floor all to himself.

It would take a year or two for the lower levels to be ready, but all the priority went into making Derek’s space livable first.

As soon as he was settled in, Derek invited Stiles to spend the night.

His dad hadn’t been thrilled about it. Derek was a grown alpha now, and Stiles—only twelve—was close to presenting any day.

“It’s inappropriate, Claudia,” his dad whispered to his mom when they thought Stiles wasn’t listening, as he waited by the door for Derek to pick him up.

“Derek is a fully grown alpha. We shouldn’t be letting them hang out like this anymore,” Noah said, the clink of his coffee cup hitting the table punctuating his words.

“Stiles could present at any moment, and if he’s an omega, his heat would immediately trigger Derek’s rut. Do you realize what could happen?”

“Honey,” Claudia whispered back, voice soothing, “Stiles loves Derek. It would break his heart if we forbid them from seeing each other.”

“I know,” Noah sighed. “But I’m just worried about Stiles getting hurt…”

“Derek would never let any harm befall Stiles,” Claudia said firmly, her smile clear in her voice. “And we’ve both known for years now that Derek intends to claim Stiles once he presents.”

“That’s because you and Talia have been whispering in their ears that they’re meant to be,” Noah grumbled under his breath.

“They are!” Claudia said brightly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, earning a resigned huff from his father.

The sharp honk of a horn outside snapped Stiles out of his eavesdropping. Grinning, he hoisted his bag higher over his shoulder.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” he yelled, darting out the door and slamming it behind him in his excitement.

Derek was waiting by the curb, lounging casually against the hood of his car. His grin widened when he spotted Stiles, the alpha’s sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as he looked him over appreciatively.

“How was the last day of school?” Derek asked, pulling the door open as Stiles approached.

“Looooong,” Stiles groaned dramatically, before flashing a bright grin as he scrambled into the car, heart thudding happily.

“Come on, let’s goooo!” he said, buckling up eagerly.

Derek rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the fondness on his face as he made his way around to the driver’s side.

The alpha climbed in, the engine humming to life with a deep purr that made Stiles’ stomach flip.

He clenched his fists in excitement as Derek shot him a crooked grin.

“Ready?” Derek asked, tapping the gas pedal lightly while still in park. The car gave a low, powerful roar in response.

“Heck yeah!” Stiles laughed, gripping his seatbelt tight.

Derek shifted out of park and peeled out onto the road, tires squealing.

Stiles’ laughter was high and bright the entire ride, his heart pounding with exhilaration.

His dad hated how Derek drove—but Stiles loved it.

It didn’t take long to reach Derek’s building.

Stiles stared up at it in awe as Derek led him inside, giving a grand tour and explaining all the work that still needed to be done.

Stiles listened attentively, hanging onto Derek’s every word as they finally made it to the top floor.

“Wow, it’s huge!” Stiles gasped when Derek opened the door. He immediately bolted inside, darting past the alpha.

“You didn’t tell me your place was gigantic!”

Derek chuckled, casually taking off his jacket and hanging it up by the door.

“It’s alright,” he said, shrugging.

“It’s better than alright,” Stiles argued, flopping onto the leather couch in the living room area.

“This place is almost the size of our school gym!” he pointed out, looking around wide-eyed.

Derek shook his head in amusement, making his way into the connected kitchen.

Stiles immediately jumped to his feet, leaving his bag behind as he rushed after Derek.

He opened cabinets, poking through them curiously, but to his disappointment, they were completely empty.

“Where’s the food?” he asked, frowning.

“I haven’t gotten very far with that yet,” Derek said, sounding a little sheepish. He opened the fridge, grabbing a beer, the cap snapping off easily under his thumb as he leaned back against the counter with lazy confidence.

Stiles wandered over, peeking into the fridge himself. At least this had food in it.

He stole a glance at Derek, watching the alpha tilt the bottle back, throat bobbing with each slow swallow. The sight made something strange flutter in Stiles’ chest.

“Can I try?” he asked, voice a little breathless as he stood directly in front of Derek.

Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’re not old enough to drink.”

“Neither are you,” Stiles shot back, smirking.

“Touché,” Derek said, his lips twitching in amusement. He lowered the bottle and held it out toward Stiles.

Stiles leaned forward, trusting him completely, and opened his mouth as Derek tipped the bottle.

The taste hit him immediately—bitter and sharp—and his eyes flew wide as he jerked back, coughing. A few drops of the cold liquid dribbled down his chin.

“That’s disgusting! How can you drink that stuff?” he gagged, sticking his tongue out with an exaggerated shudder.

Derek laughed, rich and full, before reaching out to wipe Stiles’ chin with the hem of his own shirt.

“You’ll grow to like it,” he said softly, ruffling Stiles’ hair.

The easy affection made Stiles’ face burn, but he grinned up at Derek anyway, feeling ridiculously happy.

“I doubt that,” he muttered, scrunching his nose.

“Come on,” Derek said, giving Stiles’ elbow a gentle tug. “Let’s go to the living room—you can help me set up my PlayStation.”

Stiles immediately brightened, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Okay!”

Derek led the way back into the living room, Stiles practically glued to his side like an eager puppy.

Boxes were stacked by the entertainment center — wires, controllers, and the brand-new PlayStation still sealed in its packaging. Derek crouched down to start unpacking, and Stiles immediately dropped to his knees beside him, reaching for a open box.

“Careful,” Derek warned, there box away from Stiles’ grabbing hands. “There’s cords in there. Try not to tangle them.”

“Geez, I’m not a baby,” Stiles grumbled.

Derek smirked but said nothing, pulling out the console and unwrapping it with careful fingers. Stiles watched, biting his lip to hold back the hundred questions buzzing in his head.

Can we play Mortal Kombat first? Did you get two controllers? Can I have your old system?

He bounced slightly on his knees until Derek tossed him a package.

“Here—open that,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned, tearing into the box like it was Christmas morning. “You trust me with this important mission?”

“I trust you not to break plastic,” Derek teased, bumping his shoulder into Stiles’.

The touch was casual, but it sent a warm jolt through Stiles’ body.

He ducked his head quickly, focusing harder than necessary on removing the controller from the package.

They worked together in comfortable silence, setting up the wires, syncing the controllers, and connecting everything to the massive TV mounted on the wall.

When the start-up screen finally flashed to life with a satisfying ding, Stiles threw his hands up triumphantly.

“Teamwork, baby!” he crowed, making Derek laugh again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said, grabbing one of the controllers and tossing the other to Stiles. “Let’s see if I can actually beat you now.”

“In your dreams, old man!” Stiles shot back, settling onto the couch cross-legged, the controller snug in his hands.

Derek arched a brow, amused. “Old man?”

“You’re practically ancient,” Stiles teased with a grin, eyes bright.

Derek just chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret saying that, kitten.”

He ruffled Stiles’ hair again, and even though Stiles tried to bat his hand away, he couldn’t help the way his grin stretched wider across his face.

Sitting here with Derek — just the two of them — felt perfect.

Like home.

And deep down, Stiles hoped it would always be like this.

They settled in, playing Mortal Kombat, trading jabs and laughter as they battled through a few rounds.

At first, it was pretty even — until suddenly, Stiles was losing. Badly.

“You’re cheating!” he hissed, staring wide-eyed as Derek’s character ripped out his character’s heart with brutal finality.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Derek said, grinning shamelessly.

“Again!” Stiles huffed, already jabbing at the controller.

“And risk losing my winning streak? Not a chance,” Derek teased, his voice light and playful.

With a growl, Stiles pounced, smacking Derek and sending them both toppling over with a shared grunt of “oof!”

Derek moved fast — faster than Stiles could react — flipping them effortlessly so that Stiles ended up pinned beneath him, Derek looming over him with a wicked grin.

“Not fair! You’re like… freakishly strong!” Stiles protested, squirming and laughing, trying in vain to buck Derek off.

Derek just snorted, his hands locking around Stiles’ wrists and pinning them above his head with barely any effort.

“You started it,” he said smugly, straddling Stiles’ hips.

Stiles huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes, his chest heaving from laughing and wrestling.

His heart pounded so loudly he was sure Derek could hear it.

“You give up?” Derek asked, his voice low and teasing.

Stiles narrowed his eyes stubbornly. “Never.”

Derek grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Effortlessly, he switched his grip, holding both of Stiles’ wrists with one hand.

The other hand slid down, teasing along Stiles’ side before suddenly wiggling his fingers furiously.

Stiles gasped, eyes widening in horror as Derek tickled him.

“No! Not fair!” he yelled, feet kicking uselessly as he laughed uncontrollably. “Der!”

Derek chuckled, amused by the way Stiles squeaked and squealed, struggling with all his might but still unable to escape.

“You give up?” he teased.

“Yes!” Stiles gasped, eyes watering. “Uncle! Uncle!”

Immediately, Derek stopped tickling, still laughing as he got up.

“Come on,” he said, hoisting Stiles to his feet. “Pick a movie, and I’ll order us pizza.”

Stiles swayed, pressing his hands against Derek’s stomach for support. “Okay. I want cheese.”

“I know,” Derek said fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles’ hair. “And I’ll order extra crazy bread just for you.”

Stiles beamed, chest feeling warm and fuzzy. “Okay.”

He watched Derek turn away to grab his phone, then flopped back onto the couch.

He turned off the game and began scrolling through Netflix.

The pizza didn’t take long to arrive—just shy of forty-five minutes.

Stiles happily stuffed his face, devouring several slices and way too much crazy bread.

“I’m so full,” he groaned, patting his belly.

Derek chuckled, still chewing on his own slice. He ate at a much slower pace than the younger male.

Derek swallowed before speaking. “It’s getting late. You should go ahead, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed.”

Stiles pouted. “It’s not that late.”

Derek gave him a stern look. “Stiles.”

He huffed. “Fine.”

“Good.” Derek gestured upward. “My bedroom’s up there. Make yourself at home.”

Stiles perked up, the intense urge to snoop swooping in his stomach. “Okay,” he said, doing his best not to grin as he got up, grabbing his bag before making his way toward the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a bit after I put this away.”

“’Kay,” Stiles called back, practically running up the stairs.

Derek’s room was pretty plain—maybe even a little boring—if not for the fact that it was Derek’s bedroom.

Stiles dropped his bag by the bed, peering around curiously as he grabbed his toothbrush.

Derek’s bed was huge, and he had a nice bedroom set—dressers made of wood with delicate rose carvings on the sides.

It was probably something his mother, Talia, had picked for him. It definitely suited her tastes.

But the dark blue sheets on the bed? Those were definitely Derek’s choice.

He made his way into the bathroom, snooping in the medicine cabinet as he began to brush his teeth.

He found Derek’s aftershave, which he couldn’t resist sniffing—it smelt amazing, of course.

Curiously, he touched Derek’s razor, inspecting it, before he spit in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush.

He heard the sound of Derek entering the bedroom and shuffling around, so Stiles finished his snooping and returned to the bedroom.

“I forgot my pajamas in—” Stiles’ words died on his tongue as he took in Derek’s naked back, watching the muscles flex as he moved.

“We can just sleep naked,” Derek murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles before moving closer.

Stiles’ heart beat faster, heavy thump-thump-thumps in his chest. He couldn’t help but glance down—at Derek’s flaccid cock, which hung heavy over his balls.

“I’m going to brush my teeth. Then we can settle into bed, okay?” Derek said, cupping Stiles’ chin to draw his gaze back up.

“O-Okay,” Stiles squeaked, his insides trembling with nervous energy.

Derek smiled, making Stiles’ heart soar, before he brushed past him into the bathroom.

Stiles exhaled shakily, silently paddling closer to the bed. He could do this.

They’d been naked around each other plenty of times before.

No big deal.

He lifted his shirt over his head, then slowly removed his pants and underwear.

Just as he finished folding and putting his clothes in his bag, Derek reappeared.

“Ready for bed, kitten?”

Stiles flushed, self-consciously holding his arm. “Yeah,” he whispered, looking away shyly.

Derek’s chest rumbled with a soft laugh as he moved closer, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ hair.

“You’re so cute,” Derek murmured.

Stiles’ neck and ears burned. “Am not,” he said, fidgeting under Derek’s intense stare.

“Are too.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Derek beat him to it.

“Get into bed. I’ll turn off the lights.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, shuffling over to the plush, king-sized bed—maybe even bigger than that, this thing was huge—and pulling back the blankets before climbing under them.

He watched as Derek turned off the lights, then returned to the bed and slid in beside him, pulling Stiles close.

Derek was warm, his arms a steady, comforting weight around Stiles.

Stiles sighed, nuzzling closer, feeling safe and cherished.

He was just starting to drift off, lulled by Derek’s warmth and the steady thump of his heart, when he felt Derek shift beside him.

A rough hand brushed down his side, making him shiver and blink blearily up at the alpha.

“Derek…?” he whispered, throat dry.

Derek didn’t answer — he just gave him a look.

A look full of heat, guilt, and something fiercely protective, making Stiles’ stomach clench tight.

Slowly, Derek shifted, pressing Stiles into the mattress.

His hand slid lower, tracing the soft skin of Stiles’ stomach, until he reached the crease of Stiles’ crotch, cupping him gently.

Stiles gasped, his hips jerking up instinctively.

“God, Stiles,” Derek whispered, his nose trailing along Stiles’ cheek, lips feathering soft kisses across his skin. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“Wait for what?” Stiles asked, breathing in the scent of alpha and pack.

Derek groaned, reaching down to take himself in hand — cock already hard and leaking.

Then, he grabbed Stiles’ legs, lifting them straight up and pressing his thighs together.

“To take you,” Derek murmured, voice low and rumbling, almost a growl. “To stuff you full of my cock, claim you as mine. Would you like that? Being fully mine, kitten?”

Stiles’ heart stuttered, his whole body burning with anticipation. He nodded quickly, not trusting his voice.

Stiles gasped, thighs squeezing tighter reflexively as Derek’s cock slid wetly between them.

“Fuck,” Derek growled, thrusting into the crease of Stiles’ thighs, his cock sliding against the underside of Stiles’, making him jerk and shiver.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, back arching as Derek set a steady rhythm, sliding in and out, each stroke slicker than the last.

“God, kitten,” Derek’s hands tightened around his ankles, his hips slapping lewdly against the skin of Stiles’ thighs. “Feel so good, such a good boy for me, making your alpha feel good.”

Stiles’ heart raced, pounding rabbit-fast against his ribs. Pleasure thrummed under his skin as they moved together, Derek’s praise making his heart swell.

“Alpha,” he moaned, looking up at Derek with wide, glassy eyes. His cock twitched, leaking pre come across his tummy.

“Can’t wait to breed you,” Derek grunted, eyes flashing blue and fangs lengthening. “Gonna pup you, breed my kitten full.”

Stiles’ body trembled, chest heaving — he wanted it. Wanted to carry his alpha’s pups. Anything and everything Derek wanted, Stiles would give him.

“Please, alpha,” he mewled, throwing his head back.

“You want that, kitten?” Derek murmured, voice dropping even lower. He switched his hold to one hand so he could smooth the other over Stiles’ flat stomach. “Want me to pump a litter into you? Plug you with my fat knot until I’ve bred you?”

Tears welled up, the pleasure turning dizzying as Derek’s pace increased, each snap of the alpha’s hips jerking Stiles’ whole body.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Anything for you, alpha.”

Derek's hand slid downward, taking him in hand and furiously stroking Stiles' cock.

"Alpha!"

Pleasure rushed through him, hot and sudden, and Stiles came with a shout, trembling as he pumped his release into Derek's fist.

Derek’s rhythm faltered as he watched, eyes dark and hungry, Stiles could feel Derek’s knot forming between his thighs, thick and pulsing.

Stiles whimpered, feeling the swell of Derek’s knot press insistently against him, the slick sounds between them growing louder, wetter. His whole body tingled, skin hypersensitive under Derek’s touch.

“That’s it, kitten,” Derek rasped, voice rough and reverent. “Squeeze, just like that.”

With a broken moan, Derek thrust deep one last time, grinding between Stiles’ trembling thighs as his knot blew, fully expanding.

Stiles cried out, overwhelmed, feeling the first hot spurts of Derek’s release paint hot across his stomach, and chest. Derek snarled low in his throat, hips rocking in tiny, instinctive jerks as he emptied himself against Stiles’ sensitive skin.

Painting his claim, and marking Stile as his.

“You’re mine now,” Derek murmured fiercely, come still spurting, thourghly coating Stiles' skin. “All mine.”

Stiles shivered, nodding shakily, lost in the dizzy warmth spreading through him — from Derek’s scent, from his voice, from the raw devotion behind every touch.

He couldn’t smell anything but them—nothing but Derek’s thick, intoxicating musk.

“I love you, alpha,” Stiles whispered, blinking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

Derek’s breath hitched, and he kissed Stiles hard, possessive yet tender all at once.

“I love you too, kitten,” Derek breathed against his lips, licking and biting at Stiles’ bottom lip until they were red and swollen. “I love you so much.”

Derek’s hands released Stiles’ legs, letting them drop to the mattress as he laid overtop him, pressing kiss after kiss against his lips.

“My sweet, perfect kitten,” Derek murmured softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles’ cheeks burned, a deep flush spreading from his ears down to his chest as he glanced down at the mess coating his skin. He was covered in it, from his nipples all the way down, with even specks on his thighs.

Before he could move, Derek leaned down again and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead, the touch gentle and grounding.

“You did so good, kitten,” Derek praised in a low rumble, making warmth pool deep in Stiles’ chest.

He reached for the tissue on the bedside table and began cleaning Stiles up with careful, patient movements, his touch reverent.

Stiles watched him through heavy, drooping eyes, exhaustion and satisfaction pulling at his body in equal measure.

When Derek was done, he pulled the covers up around them both, tucking Stiles securely against his chest.

His skin was still a little sticky, but the heavy scent of alpha on his skin made it worth it.

Stiles let out a small, contented sigh, nuzzling into Derek’s neck, feeling utterly safe.

Derek rumbled, his arms tightening around Stiles’ frame, and Stiles was out like a light.