Archive of Our Own

The night that Peter Hale died and Derek became the alpha — his eyes flashing red, locking onto Stiles as he gritted out, “I’m the alpha now” — everything changed.

Derek changed.

Stiles didn’t notice at first, after all, he was busy with school and dealing with Scott being completely overwhelmed with being a werewolf still and needing Stiles’ help (and the power of Google) to keep himself from wolfing out in Chem. He never realized how Derek was changing — how his new status as a werewolf was making things shift over from him being an average beta. He never realized how the newly made alpha was starting to bulk up and get stronger, or how he was growing ever conscious of the lanky teen boy that seemed to run with his pack.

It wasn’t until the first full moon that Stiles actually saw the changes.

Sure, Scott had been spewing out concerns and updates to Stiles since the last full moon, but he was sure that Scott was over exaggerating a few things.

Derek’s been getting buffer? Yeah, okay— that’s believable since he knew that Derek was constantly running the perimeters of his territory every day, which was miles of untouched wilderness. The guy would build up some muscle for working out like that all the time, alpha werewolf or not.

Derek’s getting more wolfish with the pack and its members? Well, he is a born werewolf that’s running a misfit pack of teenagers. It’d make sense if he got a little run ragged to his nerve’s end by them. Stiles is sure he’d be driven to losing his sanity too if he had to deal with Erica’s bullshit alone.

Derek’s asking where he is? Okay, that’s not something he was expecting.

So he’d been skipping out on pack meetings, so what? He had to. If he wants to get into college on scholarships, despite all this werewolf bullshit going on, he’s going to have to keep up his grades at school. He can’t afford to spend every night out when Harris assigns him so many worksheets because he’s an ass. He has essays and major projects to do, dammit. He’s not like Lydia— he can’t just magically get straight A’s and be flawless like she does without effort. He shouldn’t have to explain that.

But apparently he does, because he finds Boyd knocking on his door at six PM that Friday, and he has no choice but to resolve to being carried over the shoulder by the beta since his dad’s got the night shift out on the highway tonight.

“You know, you guys could’ve just called me,” Stiles grouches, pouting as the beta easily holds onto him like he’s nothing but a talking sack of potatoes, “There’s no need for any of this.”

“Derek wanted you now, and this was our best option. Calling you took time, and he didn’t want there to be a chance of you saying no.”

“Oh, so the big bad alpha thought I’d stiff him otherwise, eh?”

Boyd snorts, “I guess so.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and wishes that he could cross his arms, “Why listen to him, Boyd? I mean, I get that he’s your Balto sensei or whatever, but couldn’t you tell a dude no?”

“Not possible, really. I could ignore him when he was a beta and we all just kind of existed together, but now that he’s an alpha— . . . “ Boyd takes a moment to finish the sentence, “It’s completely different now.”

“Is that so?” Stiles laughs as mossy tree trunks blur beside him with Boyd’s speed, “You just have to roll over for him now?”

Boyd chuckles, “Basically.”

“Oh, wow dude, that must suck majorly,” the human huffs in sympathy, “He’s not a very good alpha, is he?”

“He can be. . . rough, but other than that he’s okay mostly. For his first full moon as an official alpha, he’s not doing too bad.”

“Yeah, other than demanding the kidnapping of a minor from his own home,” Stiles adds somewhat bitterly.

“For labeling this as a kidnapping, you sure as hell aren’t fighting all too much.”

Stiles snorts, “That’s because I know it’s futile if I do. You guys are full-fledged werewolves, half shift or not. I’m only a weak, puny human in the middle of a wolf pack. I have no chance against you guys even on your worst days. There’s no point in bothering and making myself tired and sore in the process.”

“That’s an optimistic way to look at it.”

“I know. I’m just up to my ears in sunshine, rainbows, and overbearing werewolves. No wonder I’m so peachy all the time.”

Boyd chuckles, but the conversation dies out as they arrive to the pack house.

Sure, it’s actually just the dilapidated remains of Derek’s charred childhood home, but Stiles can see that he’s been making improvements since he became an alpha. When he was a beta, though, Derek seemed to care less about the leaks in the burned rafters of the roof or how the support beams seemed to creak with the promise of breaking by the “heavy” weight of a passing breeze.

Now though, the pack house seems to have been spruced up a bit — as much as it can be with a little around a month’s worth of work and repairs. Considering how bad the shell of a house was off from the start, the difference may be marginal, but it’s there, and it makes Stiles gape a little when he sees that the roof is covered in tarps and the porch doesn’t bow like it used to from waterlogged boards. The air carries a faint scent of paint and wood stain, making Stiles’ nostrils flare a little as Boyd opens the new front door with — wow — locks and everything already installed. It seems like Derek listened to Stiles’ suggestion of having actual security to the house rather than just Derek being “growl, growl, bite” when somebody came snooping.

“I’m finally glad that you guys are trying to be a step up above cavemen,” Stiles praises, “It’s nice to step some place and not worry about falling down into the basement or anything.”

Boyd huffs, but inside, the slightly muffled bickering he was hearing quiets down. Stiles wants to groan — fucking werewolf hearing, sometimes. . .

Boyd sets Stiles down, and the human finds himself in the midst of a pack meeting. He rubs awkwardly at his neck, feeling a little bit out of place as all of the betas stare at him as though he were an alien that just happened to land in their living room.

“Uh, hi,” the human offers pathetically.

Scott pushes Erica and Jackson out of the way, his eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of Stiles. Even though they see each other in class, they’ve been hanging out less and less since Scott got bitten. It’s a change that accompanied his best friend’s “change”, so it feels like a heartfelt reunion every single time the two teenagers even get within eyesight of one another.

His best friend begins to make a move towards him.

“Scott, dude—“

A loud snarl — one that makes the walls shake and every person freeze into place — resonates through the air, and Stiles is stock still as his poor heart thunders away in fear. The werewolves whine and huddle together, and Scott even joins in, bearing his neck like the rest of them as Stiles hears footfalls descend on the stairs.

And, of course, Stiles’ frayed nerves get the best of him, and he looks up to the stairwell like an idiot.

What he sees shocks him.

It’s Derek Hale, but not as Stiles remembers him. He can vividly recall that Derek, while not unfit, was leaner and smaller than he is now. Where his tees used to drape over his arms softly, they are now taught over his muscles — hell, they’re big enough now that Stiles believes if Derek were still living in that abandoned train station while he was a beta, he could easily pick up one of the rusty train cars there as though it were a piece to a Thomas the Train Engine toy set. His shirt now catches on other various parts of his torso, leaving nothing to the imagination as Stiles sees how the thin fabric sticks itself against the swell of Derek’s pecs and hints at what Stiles believes is a six pack below them. Stiles’ mouth waters a little as his eyes drift lower to see that Derek’s shirt isn’t the only thing clinging to him. His jeans aren’t much better off, but mostly it’s centered around his thigh and his — oh holy mother of—

There’s a bulge, a substantial, oh so noticeable bulge in Derek’s crotch now, and Stiles’ gaze pins his eyes there for a few moments before Derek rumbles from his current place on the stairs

The sound reminds Stiles of where he is and exactly who he is looking at, and his eyes dart back up to Derek’s face. Just like that night when his uncle died and he looked at Stiles, his eyes are locked onto the human and are lurid and electric as they stare.

Stiles reflexively swallows, and he nearly gapes at how Derek’s crimson irises track the action before one of the betas — Scott, he’s guessing — clears their throat to remind them both of the situation at hand.

“Stiles,” Derek says easily, like nothing has been happening and that there certainly hasn’t been any staring either, “I’m glad to see you could make this pack meeting.”

“Not like I had much of a choice,” Stiles murmurs, blushing and averting his gaze to a nearby wall that is covered by sanded plaster, but not much else, instead of the alpha that’s still staring at him.

Derek, who probably would’ve made a bitter, grumpy remark about the matter if he were a beta, only snorts and continues his descent down the stairs. The air changes, not in scent, but in heaviness. It’s like Derek’s presence is gravitational, making everything seem weighed down — anchored in a way it hadn’t been before. It’s like his authority made every single thing within a ten foot radius get on the same page as him out of respect and maybe also a little fear.

The pack has gone completely silent, and even with his limited, human hearing, Stiles can tell that they’re all holding their breaths as their pack leader reaches the last step to stop right in front of Stiles.

Stiles can feel Derek’s presence as though he were made of fire — nothing but heat and natural prowess that makes Stiles want to shun away from the alpha — but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look at Derek until he feels a hand gently cup his jaw and guide his gaze towards the werewolf.

Derek doesn’t seem angry— in fact, he seems entertained and humored at the fact that Stiles is pouting like a child by refusing to look his way.

His lips are pulled up into a sly smirk as he speaks, “I’m sorry that I had to send Boyd to fetch you, but it’s important that you were here tonight, Stiles. After all, it’s the first full moon after some major changes. You needed to be aware of what’s going on just like the rest of us.”

“But I’m not pack,” that comment makes Derek’s smirk falter, and his hand falls away from Stiles’ jaw, “Not really, at least… A werewolf pack doesn’t really have room for a human groupie, does it?”

The smile is back then, “Sure it does.”

Stiles snorts in disbelief and turns away from the alpha, unable to face him that much longer without feeling the promise of goosebumps along his skin, “Well, I guess we can start the meeting then, can’t we?”

Derek doesn’t say anything else, but the pack doesn’t need him to as they shuffle to the open seats scattered about the room in milliseconds. Stiles is still standing by the time that he notices the werewolves have filled up all of the empty spaces on the couch or recliners, and he scowls as he decides he can sit on the floor or lean on a wall that hopefully won’t give way—

Wait. . . Is that a clawed hand currently on his shoulder?

“Sorry that these mindless pups are so rude, Stiles,” Derek makes Stiles turn to face him, “How about you come sit with me? There’s enough room for the both of us.”

By “enough room," the alpha apparently meant that there’s available seating on his lap for Stiles to use. He’s still processing the whole placement as Derek instantly goes into pack business, his hand ever present on Stiles’ hip as he tries to take it all in. The betas — even Scott — aren’t questioning everything, even though Stiles is sure that his heartbeat and shocked scent are out of place for the calm bantering the alpha and his pack are currently exchanging. It’s just that — along with the surprise of it all — sitting on Derek’s lap gives Stiles no illusion to the changes in the alpha.

“— but it was just a couple of hikers, as far as I could tell, since their heartbeats didn’t skip,” Isaac finishes saying, “They promised to stay on city trails from now on.”

“Good,” Derek purrs happily, and his hand tightens on Stiles’ hip without warning, “So, Stiles, have anything to share tonight?”

Stiles’ mouth goes dry, and he looks at the betas with wide eyes as they only unhelpfully stare at him like deer in headlights, “I, uh— not really, no…”

“Really?” Derek fakes disappointment, “No issues? No developments? I was told you were dating some girl— . . . Tiffany, is that her name?”

“It’s actually Tina, but no, we’re just project p-partners,” Stiles stutters as he sees the red in Derek’s eyes strengthen in response, “I’m still the same old Stiles everyone knows and loves… Nothing’s changed…”

Derek grins, his white teeth — ones that Stiles knows can become pointy and dangerous on command — a stark contrast to his eyes, “That’s good to hear. For a while there, we almost thought we lost you.”

“Nope,” Stiles pops the ‘p’ and notices how Derek’s pupils darken and grow with the action, “I’m still here. Never left, really…”

Silence lapses for a few seconds, and Stiles squirms in a response to the awkwardness, only for him to still when he realizes where he’s currently sitting. Derek’s hand is gripping onto his hip hard enough where it threatens bruising if it holds on any longer, and the sharp pinpricks of claws nearly make Stiles squeak in surprise.

“Well, now that everything is addressed in the pack, I’d like to call this meeting over.”

Stiles can’t feel any more relieved, but as tries to stand with no avail, he realizes that maybe this isn’t over just yet. The betas leave in a rush, and Stiles feels disappointed by the fact that Scott doesn’t even attempt looking at him before he scurries away like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs. Stiles wants to say something — wants to call the pack back into the room so he isn’t alone with Derek — but he doesn’t. He knows they won’t come to his rescue.

“So, Stiles. . .” Derek takes his other hand and fixes Stiles’ plaid over shirt from where it’s ridden down his shoulder, “how have things been since that night for you?”

“I told you, nothing’s changed, so it’s been the same,” Stiles pauses for a second, “Why would you care?”

Derek looks at Stiles like he’s ignorant, “Because you’re part of my pack, Stiles. I’m supposed to care.”

“But I thought I wasn’t—“

Derek growls, cutting Stiles off. His claws prick Stiles’ skin, making him swallow nervously as he can feel his flesh pulse underneath the alpha’s elongated nails. Stiles looks Derek in the eyes to find them red, fiery and vibrant— a stark contrast to the lower, duller shade they had been previously.

“You. Are. Pack,” he grits out, his canines now long enough to be called fangs, “You’ve always been pack.”

Stiles shivers and break his gaze away from Derek’s wolfed out face, his hands shaking a little as he brings it up to push Derek away a little — like it’s going to be effective or do him any good for trying, “Derek, I— you’re scaring me, dude.”

“I thought you told me you were done with being scared a while ago.”

Stiles doesn’t dare look him in the eyes, “I was, when you were a beta. Now you’re a huge, bulky alpha that could easily pin me down and—“

There’s another growl, but this time, Stiles finds himself with his back against the floor rather than remaining seated on Derek’s lap. The alpha is above him, rumbling with his fangs exposed and his eyes lit up as though they were stop lights meant to make Stiles freeze in place. They work though, because all of Stiles’ muscles tense and lock up, forcing him to stiffen reflexively under the werewolf as the brunt of his weight is bore down upon his lanky frame.

“D-Derek?” Stiles wheezes in both breathlessness and shock, “What— what are you doing?”

“Teaching you that you have no reason to fear me,” he says nonchalantly, like him shoving Stiles unto the floor isn’t a big deal whatsoever.

The jerk. . .

“Look, uh, Derek—“ Stiles tries to shimmy out from underneath the alpha, but he’s unable to even budge from the hold Derek’s got on him, “It’s nice that you want to prove that, even as an alpha, you’re still a good guy and all, but is this really necessary? Was any of this really necessary? I mean, I could’ve come to a pack meeting all on my own and I certainly wouldn’t need Boyd to come fetch me like I’m some promised maiden from an old tower or anything. But really it seems like a huge overkill and waste of time and energy and I’d really like it if you got off of me now, I think I got the message—“

“Did you now?” Derek quirks a brow, and Stiles has to avert his gaze to his chest and— oh dear god, that angle makes him see Derek’s crotch bulge and dear lord— “You usually ramble and prattle on when you have no clue what you’re talking about. It’s like words are your filler for the unknown.”

“That’s— that’s not true.”

Derek pokes Stiles dead on his sternum, making the bone underneath his pale flesh ache a little, “Lie.”

Stiles blushes, his face heating obscenely as he stutters out a flustered response, “D-Derek, come on, that’s— that’s so unfair to read me like that—“

“Then don’t give me a reason to, just be straightforward about things. Like how you don’t know what I’m trying to tell you.”

Stiles scowls, “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, mister—“

“Oh, really?” Derek teases, the left side of his mouth quirking up into a playful smirk, “Do you really understand?”

“Y-Yes,” Stiles says with mock confidence, “You told me yourself… It’s to show me you aren’t a threat now that you’re an alpha…”

Derek hums in thought, “Close… but not quite there yet.”

Stiles huffs, “Dude, I tried. There’s—“

“Do you know anything about alphas, Stiles?” Derek asks, and he begins to slink up the length of Stiles’ body with his crimson eyes, “Do you know what drives us forward, unlike betas? Do you know what we crave? What we desire most?”

Stiles swallows out of nervousness, and the action makes Derek’s gaze snap up to the human’s throat to watch in flex with interest, “N-No…”

“We want a pack. A fully functional, complete pack,” Derek begins to explain, and he lets his hand come up to Stiles’ plaid shirt, and he plays with one of the buttons on it aimlessly, “I have numerous betas that follow me loyally, yes, but— I know there’s something else I need. Something that will make my pack whole, Stiles.”

The human, who’s gone abnormally silent for once, speaks up only a little, “A-And what’s that, exactly?”

“A second in command, so to speak. But it’s much more complicated than just promoting a beta. This person, they must be picked on a completely different level of reasoning than if I were to pick someone to become a beta in my pack.”

“I don’t—“ Stiles flounders, “I don’t understand.”

Derek’s smirks grows until both corners of his mouth are uplifted, “The reason why I won’t hurt you, Stiles, is because you’re my mate. An alpha’s mate. You’re what my pack has been missing.”

Stiles’ eyes widen, and his pulse races. His breathing picks up speed as well, but Derek doesn’t seem surprised by any of Stiles’ reactions.

“I— I don’t—“ Stiles’s hands scramble for any sort of purchase on the newly installed wooden floor below him, “Derek, I—“

“You’re smart, quick, caring, loyal,” Derek begins, and he runs a hand through Stiles’ hair, making the human shiver in response, “You’ve kept my betas, even when I wasn’t their alpha, safe. You’ve gone out of your way to protect all of us, even though you’re a human in the midst of supernatural creatures that could easily out power you. Yet, when I look at you, I don’t see someone that’s weak. I see a strong bodied and minded person who’s willing to do anything to keep his friends alive, even when you were still considered strangers or weren’t even on good terms at the time. That’s worth more to me than the bite, Stiles.”

Stiles gapes at Derek, his eyes searching all over the alpha’s face to find some tell — some twitch or anything — to show that he’s lying, “I— I don’t believe you…”

Derek’s eyes are almost pleading as he looks at the human below him, “Want me to prove it to you, then?”

Stiles’ heart pounds away against his ribs like an animal would its cage — begging to be free — so Stiles says to Hell with it, and decides to let go like he’s wanted for months now.

“Yes… Please…”

Derek is on him instantly, like he’d been one second away from breaking in the whole time. Either way, he grabs at Stiles’ clothes roughly, his movements edged in desperation as his mouth works hungrily against Stiles’. The human moans against the werewolf’s lips, glad that his friends have left prior to him and Derek making out on the floor of his living room.

Derek pulls back only slightly to speak, “Clothes. Off now.”

Stiles giggles excitedly despite himself, and sits up so he can work at getting his plaid over shirt off of his arms, only to have Derek nip hungrily at his mouth when he closes in the space. Stiles falters a couple of times while trying to remove his plaid shirt, but he somehow still ends up getting it off. The alpha is impatient though, and although there is some progress being made, he ends up undressing Stiles himself when he decides the human is taking too long. Normally, his urgency would annoy and even piss off Stiles, but now that it’s for an entirely different reason other than “growl growl I’m pissed off and emotionally constipated blah blah blah I hate everything hear me roar," it makes him smile fondly at the rushing alpha.

“Impatient, are we?” he teases lightly.

“I’ve been waiting for this for such a long time, Stiles. I don’t want to hold it off any longer,” he growls back, unashamed about anything as he already begins to work at Stiles’ jeans and boxers now that his shirt has been discarded properly.

Stiles grins unabashedly, “Oh, so you’ve been wanting a piece of Stilinski, now? Tell me, Der, how long have you been thinking about me?” the alpha falters as he tries to lower Stiles’ fly which is beginning to perk upwards with Stiles’ hardening cock, “Was it my moles that you thought of? My eyes? Lips? Ass—“

Derek cuts the human off with a low growl, and it makes Stiles chuckle, “You’re dancing on a thin, high wire here, Stiles… I don’t— I don’t have that much control as it is…”

“Aw, so Derek Hale, the werewolf that was apparently an expert in self-discipline, has a weakness for me? How sweet!”

The alpha growls again, but it’s less fiery and more lustful, and he ends up ripping away Stiles’ jeans and boxers in one go, the quick sound of denim ripping a little and strings popping apart reaching Stiles’ ears before he finds the alpha pinning him down once more.

Above, Derek is panting, his torso rising and falling rapidly while his claws gently poke at Stiles’ wrists while he holds them down above the human’s head. Stiles stares at Derek’s face which has become more wolfish, and it seems like Derek is taking a moment to regain some composure as he trembles above him with strain.

“Der?”

“Need… Need to—“ Derek shakes his head away, like it’s a bad thought that needs to vacate his brain before it becomes reality, “No… I— . . . Stiles… You’re driving me mad…”

“Sorry?” he offers weakly, “I’m not exactly doing it on purpose… Well, some of it, yeah, but not all…”

Derek’s head hangs close to his chest for a few minutes, but when it raises, his features are back to normal. Stiles stares Derek in the eyes, processing what just happened.

“My wolf is too pent up,” Derek explains quietly, “You being gone for over a month hasn’t helped.”

“Oh,” Stiles murmurs, and his arousal dampens a little with guilt, “If I’d known then I would’ve come sooner.”

“But you didn’t know, that’s the point. You knew nothing about this,” Derek sighs and takes a deep breath, “Stiles, I— I need to ask something of you…”

Stiles tilts his head, the flat, hard expanse of the floor apparent against the length of his body now, “What?”

“I— my wolf needs a release… Ever since I became an alpha, it’s been nothing but demanding. The full moon hasn’t helped all that much, and I need to find better anchors so I can be in control more…”

“Derek, are you—“

“You’re one of my anchors, yes… You have been since you told me that anger wasn’t really a good thing to hold onto… I— I learned to move on because of you. It’s why I’m rebuilding my house. For the pack and for you… My wolf knows all of this, and— it wants you, Stiles. It wants you so bad and I—“

“Then you can have me— take me, whatever,” Stiles exhales, and Derek is staring at him with what seems like awe sparkling in his eyes, “I’ll— I’ll be your mate. I’ll be here for the pack like you need me to be…”

“You do understand what that means, right? You won’t be able to date in college, and you won’t be able to be with anyone else other than me, and—“

Stiles tries to shush Derek with a peck to the lips, and it does what it’s intended to do, leaving the alpha slack jawed and in a haze while Stiles speaks, “Maybe I want that, sourwolf. I’m loyal, remember? It’s one of my many admirable qualities that you apparently get hard over—“

Derek growls, but it’s light, “It’s not like that…”

“I know it isn’t, but I want to have my fun,” Stiles rolls his eyes playfully, “Now, can we please get back to the kissing and whatnot? I’m currently naked on your floor, and let me tell you, I think I’ve got impressions of the wooden floorboards on my ass already—“

That’s apparently enough to get Derek going again, because he’s on Stiles like they hadn’t even stopped previously. There’s a little bit of animalistic hunger lingering in his kisses, a little bit of possessiveness in his touches. The way he holds and grasps onto Stiles makes the human feel like the alpha wants to break him so he can put him back together again — to shatter Stiles until he can be remade by the alpha’s calloused fingertips like the human had done with him after they had first met.

Stiles moans lewdly, because Derek is rumbling in approval as he lifts Stiles’ hips up to be placed in his lap, leaving Stiles’ torso angled and on the floor as the alpha marvels at the human spread before him.

Stiles groans as he feels Derek’s hands grip onto his hips, and he can feel the long, hard length of Derek’s flushed cock poking at his cheeks already and hot damn.

“Der,” Stiles wantonly cries out, “You’re— you’re so big…”

“Benefit of being a born werewolf and an alpha,” Derek proudly points out, “Not that I could say the same for you, though…”

Stiles thinks it was meant to be said as a joke — something that should’ve been fleeting in its passing — but instead, it makes Stiles react in a way that he isn’t expecting to. His cock twitches, and precome drips down the shaft as a small whimper is elicited from him.

Derek is looking at Stiles in both surprise and need, as though he wasn’t anticipating his words to have such and effect on Stiles, but it’s completely welcomed either way.

“You— you like that?” Derek asks as Stiles’ cheeks burn with shame and mortification, “You want me to tell you that you’re minuscule compared to me?”

Another needy noise is ripped from Stiles without his permission, and he feels so embarrassed that Derek doesn’t even have to touch him to make him jolt or squeak like he’s some overly horny sex kitten.

Which is weird, considering. A dog and a cat doesn’t usually work out, and—

“Stiles, you still with me?”

Stiles nods, coming back to himself a little, bit by bit, “Y-Yeah, I’m still here… Just— just got caught up in my head a little, sorry…”

“It’s fine. I’m used to having to compete for your attention anyways,” Derek smirks, and that’s when he begins to, apparently, try and keep Stiles’ mind on him and what they’re currently doing by grabbing a handful of his fully erect cock, making the human gasp and arch below the werewolf, “But see? Now I have all of it, don’t I?”

“D-Derek—“ Stiles nearly wails, the calloused touch that the alpha has on his erect length none too soft, “Derek, Derek Derek, Derek—“

“That’s it, chant my name,” Derek growls, his hand working up and down Stiles’ stiff shaft at a grueling pace, the slick sound of copious amounts of precome mixing in with their rough breathing, “God, you’re so tiny, Stiles. I don’t even think I need a full hand to jerk you off. Maybe just four fingers? Three? Hell, maybe I could just tap your puny cock and you’ll come yourself from over stimulation.”

Stiles cries out lewdly, his voice cracking as it crescendos too quickly for it to keep up with the change in pitch and volume as Derek pumps him like he’s dying.

“You look so good like this,” the alpha grits out, his hand never slowing down any, “your tiny, little cock just weeping over my fingers… I didn’t know that you’d be this into knowing just how pathetic your package is.”

Stiles moans loudly, surprising himself as his orgasm begins to build up like a buzz of electricity in his inner thighs.

Seriously — he knew that he wasn’t small like Derek was saying. If anything, he was average for a dude his age and whatever. He should know, he looked it up after he measured it in middle school— and yes, it was erect, thank you.

Still, even if he’s an average Joe with an average dick, Derek cannot fall into the same category. Even when limp it’s obvious he dwarfs Stiles, and it makes the human sit up a little to eye the hulking monster that’s been pressing hotly into his thigh for the fast few minutes.

“What is it, Stiles? Never seen a real dick before since you don’t really have one yourself?” that makes Stiles shiver, “Want to get a good look? Cop a feel to know what it should be like?”

Stiles whines in the back of his throat as he finds Derek lifting his hand, only to stop it right above the obscene bulge tenting his jeans.

“Can’t you see what being an alpha has done to me? How much bigger it’s made me?” Derek taunts Stiles by placing his own hand above his cock with Stiles’ draping over the top of it— like he’s teasing Stiles with the promise of a touch only to block it out with his own palm as he swirls his fingers over the blatant shape of the head of his cock, “You haven’t even seen what’s it’s done to my balls, Stiles— to my orgasms… I can come so much that I’m sure I’d give you a little pot belly if I wanted to.”

Stiles groans, his eyes squeezing shut as Derek still touches himself with Stiles’ hand over the top his own, without having it even brush against the precome-dampened fabric of his stretched jeans, “D-Derek, please…”

“What is that, Stiles? You want to know what an alpha cock is really like? How your tiny dick will never amount to mine? It’s almost like comparing Big Ben to an alarm clock on your nightstand, isn’t it? It’s not even in the same league.”

The human bites at his bottom lip with a small groan, the sound vibrating in his throat as Derek slips his hand out from underneath Stiles’, letting his palm finally graze against the denim strained over the obvious shape of his flushed cock’s tip. Derek is a solid length underneath his pale, lanky fingers as they shake over the stark outline of it protruding from Derek’s jeans. It’s hard and thick — completely unforgiving to any press of Stiles’ fingertips. It makes the human’s mouth water because holy Christ — Derek’s got a cock good enough for the high grade porn industry and then some. Derek must smell Stiles’ peak in arousal though, because his dick twitches in interest in Stiles’ grasp, and Stiles can’t help himself after that.

Instantly, like some sort of switch has been flipped, Stiles’ mind goes blissfully blank sans the urgent need to just get Derek into his mouth now.

Sure, he’s had a few occasional fantasies of sucking a dude off— like maybe before math class or when they’re faking some sort of study session together. It’s always cliché like some raunchy porno, but that’s what Stiles usually ends up watching anyway when the urge strikes him. But still, jacking himself off and then tasting his own come to the thought of it being someone else’s dick — someone else’s come — always got him more “hot and bothered” than an active volcano.

It’s not the best comparison, but it suits well enough for the boiling need roiling around like fiery, liquid magma in his lower gut. His own cock must be something similar too, because if he’s not careful, he’s going to blow a full load right here on Derek’s Henley.

“Clothes,” Stiles shakes out as he fumbles with Derek’s fly, “Off.”

Derek is quick to comply, because he must notice how Stiles’ dick is a stark red while standing up straight against his stomach, only bobbing a little as Stiles moves about to get Derek’s jeans off his hips. It’s a struggle, because the denim is so taught due to Derek’s hardened length that any extra space Derek had left in his pants has been taken up by his erection.

“Dear God,” Stiles whines hungrily, “How big are you?”

“Pretty big,” Derek supplies, his voice husky as he ends up growling and ripping the denim apart instead of just slipping it off, “Big enough to where I’m going to have to invest in a different pants size too, apparently.”

“Wait, you’ve had to move on up on other things too?”

Derek’s cheeks redden a little, “Yes, obviously… My boxers were a little tighter than I would’ve liked. The other adjustments in size had to be made because my muscles are too big for my old clothes now.”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Stiles whispers out in awe, watching as the alpha finishes undressing to reveal a plane of rock hard abs and tanned skin to Stiles’ widened eyes, “I— I had no clue the changes were this extensive…”

“Being an alpha really makes a difference,” he mumbles, but he quickly clears his throat, “but so does being an alpha’s mate.”

Stiles blinks until he catches up to the conversation, because damn— Derek’s muscles are distracting as hell, “Yeah… About that… What is that exactly?”

“An alpha’s mate is someone that they can trust— someone that they know will make their pack the best it can be,” Derek looms over Stiles, his new found nakedness more apparent than when he leered over Stiles beforehand, “They’re also someone that can keep an alpha sane through the stress of running a pack and having an authoritative wolf.”

“And how does this apply to me?”

Derek grins warmly, “You’ve saved my betas countless times, even including myself when you didn’t have to. You’ve gone out of your way with research and the Bestiary, just so we could know what we were dealing with when we came across it. If it weren’t for you, Scott probably would’ve hurt someone he cared about on his first full moon, and he would’ve been killed by the Argents subsequently because of it— but you kept that all from happening.”

“Dude, I had no idea that Allison or Chris would’ve put him down like Old Yeller, okay? I just— I wanted to protect my best friend…”

“And that’s why you’re the one that my wolf wants, Stiles,” Derek purrs out, and he sits back a little, taking his erection in hand as best as he can since his fingers barely wrap around its girth, “You’re so selfless, so willing to lay down your guns for someone else… Tell me, Stiles, would you do that for me?”

Stiles mouth gapes like a fish’s, opening and closing on unsaid words as he scrambles to find his tongue, “I— I— Derek…”

“Would you do it for me?” the alpha echoes, and he pumps his large, erect cock twice, his face wolfishly garish with pleasure, “Would you submit?”

“Y-Yes,” Stiles squeaks out, and he looks up at Derek through his lashes only to pause for a moment, so he can remember what the betas did after addressing Derek, “I’d submit to you, alpha.”

That sets something in Derek off, and he growls predatorily. He quickly grabs Stiles by the lengthening locks of his unkempt, uncut hair, and brings him level to the large, dripping tip of his cock.

“Then prove it,” he grits out, and there’s no room for any playing around or teasing there— if Stiles is actually going to suck his cock and make promises, he better mean it.

The monster is before him— flushed, dripping precome from its engorged tip. It’s easily got the girth of the baseball bat Stiles stashes in his room, and the length being something that would make the band “Nine Inch Nails” sue for copyright infringement. It’s probably the prettiest dick Stiles has ever seen.

He wants to put flower crowns on it.

“Jesus,” Stiles exhales, his exhale making Derek shiver as it’s directly drafting over his over-sensitive member, “If you made a porn blog on Tumblr, they’d be all over you.”

“I’m sure they would, but they’re not who I want to suck my magical, apparently Tumblr-approved dick.”

Stiles nods, and knows that by the undertone of desperation in Derek’s voice, that he must really be holding himself back, “I, uh— do you even think my mouth is big enough? Like, I won’t have to break my jaw for this, do I?”

Derek rubs a hand over his face, “Stiles—“

“Yeah, yeah. Got it,” Stiles waves a dismissive hand around lightly, because he is pretty fixated on Derek’s ginormous wacker, “So, um, where do you want me to start?”

“I’d like you to stop using your mouth to talk so you can suck. Or lick. Whatever’s preferable, considering…”

Stiles swallows, and the heat in his lower belly picks up a bit, “Y-Yeah… Definitely going to have some issues with size here…”

“But you like that, don’t you?” Derek begins to tease again, the flirtatious, lewd banter from earlier making a reappearance, “You like the thought of my cock stuffing your mouth so full that your eyes water and your jaw aches, right? What about when I come? Wouldn’t you like that to be nice? After all, I bet you’ve always wanted to suck cock. You’d probably even practiced on yourself, but with how minuscule you are I would image that it’d be impossible. I mean, have you seen it? What am I kidding? It’s so microscopic that you can’t even—“

Without warning, Stiles ends up coming. Derek’s heated words must’ve short fused his own dick because holy hell he’s never come that fast without touch in his life—

Derek rumbles above Stiles as the human twitches out the last bits of his decent, word-induced orgasm, which doesn’t necessarily help things along. Once the hormonal haze has passed and the endorphins have settled enough for Stiles to register reality again, he blearily looks up to a lurid-eyed Derek Hale glaring what seems like daggers into him. It’s only until Stiles looks at the alpha’s chest that he understands.

Ropes of cooling come are slowly rolling down the alpha’s chest and six pack, and if Stiles hadn’t already come, he’s sure that he’d do so again just from the sight alone. His spent cock gives an interested, but albeit haggard twitch, but even he — a horny, horny teenage boy — needs time to recuperate his losses.

“Oh, I— sorry?”

“Stiles,” the alpha growls out, and the human can see the werewolf’s elongated nails dig into the meat of his palms, “You— I—“

That’s when Stiles notices the tremor in Derek’s form— the slight shake to all of his limbs as though he were vibrating with want. His eyes are locked onto Stiles and focused on his lips completely while the teen licks at them to test the alpha’s control. He jerks forward a little bit, and there’s a barely audible whine to be heard coming from the suppressed werewolf.

“You’re losing control over me, aren’t you?”

“You coming on me certainly hasn’t helped,” Derek hisses, “Now could you please—“

Stiles cuts the alpha off by licking his own come off of the werewolf’s abdomen. Derek is effectively silenced, being left to stare at Stiles in shock as the human licks up his own cooling come from his middle. Stiles makes sure to gaze up through his lashes at the older man above him while he swirls his tongue over his stomach.

Derek exhales roughly, and he places a hand onto Stiles’ shoulder to ground and steady himself as he watches Stiles hungrily lick away all traces of his own come away from Derek’s skin. The alpha’s eyes are bright and dilated on Stiles, and the human makes sure to put on a show for Derek. He moans softly— just quiet, little needy noises that vibrate against Derek’s tanner flesh as he suckles at it playfully. The teen can feel the skin twitch and heat underneath his lips and tongue, and it only eggs him on further to get Derek to completion.

He pulls back enough to make sure there’s no more of his come left on Derek’s torso before going to where he’s been imagining this mouth this whole time — Derek’s massive dick.

Now that he’s up close though, Stiles can see Derek’s balls and jeez— no wonder Derek had to promote himself in underwear sizes. They hang low and full at the base of his enormous cock, and it only makes Stiles’ mouth water as he slides his mouth over the tip of the behemoth before him.

“S-Stiles—“ Derek hisses, his fingers tightening roughly in Stiles’ hair, “Fuck…”

The human makes quick work of Derek’s cock. Sure, he’s never actually sucked a dick before, but he’s seen porn— that’s like a hot, practiced tutorial on how to go down on any cock like a pro. That means that Derek’s enormous girth and size won’t deter or hinder Stiles in the slightest. If anything, it encourages Stiles— pushes him to try and see how much he can fit into his mouth before his gag reflex kicks in and his eyes water up and clump his lashes together. It’s like he’s trying to set personal goals and records only to try and beat them on his next dip.

“S-Shit, you— have you done this before?”

Stiles’ mouth pops off the alpha’s dick obscenely, but he mouths at the length from an angle as he shakes his head, too busy with using his lips to feel every pulsing, navy vein along the shaft.

“You’re telling me that, with no experience whatsoever, you can give me a blow job like you were made for it?”

Stiles shrugs nonchalantly, and he takes a hand and begins to fondle at Derek’s over-sized sack just because he can. It shuts the alpha up pretty well, and Stiles goes back to focusing on tasting Derek’s stiffened length again.

It doesn’t take Derek long — both with the oral and hand stimulation to his cock and his balls coupled with an already frayed sense of control — to come down Stiles’ throat as he tries to take the man into his mouth again. Stiles almost wants to whine at the loss, but he quickly tampers down the small amount of disappointment in favor of swallowing Derek’s salty, yet sweet come. He moans loudly around Derek’s cock, and if anything, it causes more come to squirt out of it in response.

He ends up sitting there for five minutes just nursing off of Derek’s cock, his mouth sucking gently and lips slightly pursed as he drank all that his alpha had to give him. In the end, his belly hurt a little, and he felt like he drank thirty gallons of syrup or molasses, making him sluggish and stuffed full. He groans at the feeling — at the tautness of his skin over his now slightly distended stomach, but he grins like a fat canary in a cage as Derek finally comes back to the living.

“Hey there, Der. How’s it hangin’?”

The alpha just stares at the human for a moment, “You— you—“

“Yeah,” Stiles pats the small come bump he has and burps a little, easing some of the strain in his stomach, “I did… And before you ask, no— I don’t regret any of this whatsoever. Now carry me up to your bed. M’tired and full of your come and I’d like to sleep for three weeks, if that’s okay.”

Derek blinks once or twice, but ends up shaking his head as though he were accepting his fate with as much optimism as one could have. Either way, he chose Stiles to be his alpha mate or whatever. If he damned himself, that’s on him, not Stiles.

He is the alpha now, after all.