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Stiles couldn't take his eyes off Derek as light and shadow flashed across his face beneath the streetlights. Fuck, he couldn't wait to get horizontal with the man, but something tugged at his mind, a little niggling self-preservation instinct that wouldn't shut up, that wouldn't just let him have this.
"This isn't some bullshit cross pack kumbaya breeding bullshit like the Moonflower pack, right?"
Derek snorted, a good sign. "No."
"No ulterior motives or, you know, secret plans to imprison, murder, or otherwise harm me or my pack?"
"None. I want you, not your pack. Willingly. Preferably begging." Derek was smirking as Stiles' magic confirmed he spoke truth. Fuck, it was outrageous how sexily unbothered this man was. His eyes roamed Derek's face still, drinking up the delicious sight of him, still trailing his eyes along the stubble, the chin, along the line of the man's nose as the streetlight highlights still flashed across his features.
A hand slid up Stiles' thigh, turning up the volume on his lascivious thoughts. His mind spiraled back to thoughts of bodies moving in the dark. He licked his lips. "Looking forward to it, eh? Gonna make the bed smell like us?"
The answering rumble in Derek's chest rose above the rumble of the car. His eyes flashed blue. It gave Stiles pause, but then, every pair of blue eyes came with a story. It was a story for later tonight.
Derek's free hand still roamed along the inside of Stiles' thigh, distracting him from his thoughts as it pressed, kneading, teasing in its warmth.
God, Stiles wanted to get his mouth on this man. More than just his mouth; there was something almost electric about the smell of him even to Stiles' mundane senses. He ached to get a taste.
Derek's nostrils flared. Stiles wondered, then, what he must smell like to Derek. Fingers gripped bruisingly hard. He felt Derek's effort to keep from palming Stiles right there in the damn car.
He undressed Derek in his mind, imagined what he'd feel like beneath Stiles' skin, imagined the firm warmth of solid muscle against his chest, his back, his ass. Derek's fingers tightened. His driving turned harsh, reckless in a way that sent Stiles' heart hammering in his chest. Thank fuck most of the deputies were busy with that contentious town hall, because holy shit, Stiles did not want to wade through a ticket before getting hands on this man.
Fuck, if he didn't know exactly how dangerous it could be, he'd have his mouth on Derek as he drove. He imagined the taste, the weight on his tongue. Derek fought to keep control, imagined fingers in his hair, gripping for dear life as Stiles' tongue sent the car swerving.
He knew better, he wouldn't, but fuck that would be hot as hell.
Stiles licked his lips in anticipation. Derek's eyes tracked the movement for just a moment then he cursed; the car swerved. Stiles gripped the sumptuous interior while the car righted itself beneath Derek's capable hands.
The vehicle screeched to a halt in front of a tall, forbidding bit of architecture but Stiles didn't care. He was too distracted by the hand palming his crotch, by the face filling his field of view, by the lips pressing in against his, raging, ravenous.
Stiles threaded his fingers through Derek's thick hair. His lips parted, making way for Derek's tongue. God this man was perfect, he even tasted good. Stiles shamelessly arched his back, pressing against that delicious contact.
The kiss broke as suddenly as it started.
"Inside?"
Stiles nodded. The driver's side door swung open then shut. The passenger side swung open. Stiles scrambled after Derek, close at his heels. Fuck he couldn't wait.
They didn't wait, not entirely. Hands roamed in the elevator. They almost missed the door but Stiles managed to catch it just in time.
Stiles found himself pressed against the wall. His shirt came off, when the fuck did that happen? "We're still outside—"
"Floor's mine," Derek kissed him again, hands roaming deliciously beneath what few clothes remained.
"Cool. So like. We could fuck on the floor here and the landlord wouldn't be pissed?"
"I am the landlord," Derek answered in a tone that said 'stop talking' which really just went to show how little he knew Stiles.
"Ok but then theoretically—" lips against his cut off his errant words as a hand around his dick cut off his errant thoughts too.
Fuck, he wanted more than just a hand job. Derek's lips moved down to sample all the contours of his neck. "Bed maybe? And lube?" panted Stiles.
Derek, in response, hiked Stiles' legs up around his waist. He carried him effortlessly. Stiles didn't notice all the damn rooms Derek carried him through, too distracted by hands and lips til Derek tipped back onto soft fabric with Stiles on top.
Clearly this was the perfect time to extricate Derek from his shirt; Derek seemed to agree. One more piece of fabric hit the floor. Stiles ran his hands along the warm, toned planes of Derek's chest as they made out. He could feel the way Derek pawed at his fly.
A button popped, flying off to join the shirt. Stiles couldn't find it in him to care. The air practically crackled, his magic was as excited as he was while they removed the rest of their clothes between bouts of fondling and making out.
God, Stiles had never had anyone so— so desperate for him, so clearly enamored of every inch of him. Derek took the time between fiercer bouts of making out to trace and track the moles that spattered Stiles' skin with a strange, frenzied reverence.
It would have freaked him out if it weren't so fucking hot, if something in Derek's eyes hadn't reflected a matching drive, if he weren't spurred on by magic singing in his veins, chanting 'yesyesyesyes' as Derek and Stiles crashed together once again.
Stiles pulled back, panting. Derek reached up for him once more. "Lube?"
Derek twisted away to grab something off the bedside table. Stiles rushed to cover his fingers, warming them up before he reached down between Derek's legs.
Fuck, the sound he made as Stiles' fingers slid in. He'd opened himself up earlier, clearly, given the way Stiles' long, lithe fingers slid in. He couldn't help imagining how those wet, warm walls would feel around his dick.
Derek twisted, pressing down, impaling himself on Stiles' digits. They twisted and thrust, brushing towards their goal.
He lost himself for a bit, entranced by the way Derek moved, by every little grunt and groan, by the way Derek's face twisted up just right as Stiles hit the spot. He could do this forever, keep Derek writing, keep him waiting as Stiles teased out wave after wave of motion from the man.
"More " Derek bit out around the start of fangs. His eyes glowed electric blue in the dim light of the loft.
More, huh? Stiles could do more. He reveled in the way Derek squirmed as he pulled his fingers out to line himself up.
"How do you want it?" Stiles couldn't decide, he wanted to be plastered against Derek's back, wanted to see his face, wanted to slide in at any angle, every angle, at whatever angle Derek wanted.
Derek replied by throwing his legs over Stiles' shoulders and, well, Stiles could handle that.
His eyes tracked the place where they joined. He pressed in, slow at first until Derek's legs pulled him forward, urging him on and fuck. It felt just as good as Stiles hoped, better, even. The slick all-encompassing heat of Derek sucked him in and pressed around with perfect pressure on each and every thrust.
He adjusted the angle and for his effort drew a desperate, almost wounded sound from Derek as the other man reached up to pull Stiles into a filthy kiss.
Stiles kept going, of course he kept going, pressing on and in, chasing that electric warmth. His hands slid along warm, strong, smooth skin.
Derek broke the kiss first; his head fell back, eyes glazed. Stiles felt him clench, felt warm liquid spurt against his skin. The sudden tightness pushed him over the edge, spilling deep within Derek.
With a shift of Derek's legs, Stiles collapsed against his warm, firm, chest. Strong arms circled him, the faint feeling of warm breath caressed his skin. He felt Derek take in their scents with a contented sigh.
Stiles breathed deep, then let out a long breath. "That was—wow."
Derek grunted in agreement.
As the afterglow slowly faded, Stiles found himself plagued with doubts and confusion. Things like this didn't just happen, not to him. God, after all those times giving Scott crap for thinking with his dick, Stiles did the same. He was never gonna live it down.
"Stop thinking," Derek groused.
"You don't think this is weird?"
Derek gave him a look that said 'are you literally an idiot?'
"I'm just saying," stiles continued, "you took me into your den super fast. I'm not complaining, but I don't really get why?"
"You don't get why." Derek was staring still, as if Stiles were a puzzle to be solved. "You're in a wolf pack."
Ok, rude. "Only like, two of us are wolves, and they're bitten, so if this is some sort of born wolf thing—"
"It's an all wolves thing," Derek huffed.
"Well yes, but whatever it is, I don't know about it. You born wolves just assume we know everything. Assume I know nothing and explain. Please."
Derek looked uncomfortable at that. "It's…" he stalled, searching for words. "It's a compatibility thing. Sometimes, when we find the right person—"
"No way. Fuck that. Soulmates aren't a thing. I checked."
Derek huffed out a long aggrieved sign. "It's not that. It's compatibility."
"Compatibility," Stiles repeated incredulously.
"Sometimes, when you meet someone who balances you out, who fits you just right, the wolf just knows." He ended with a shrug as if it were that simple.
Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That sounds pretty similar to soulmates to me."
"Soulmates aren't real. Besides, it's not a requirement. We're not destined or obligated to be together. It doesn't always work out. Sometimes, circumstances get in the way."
"Like?"
"My great aunt alerted on the married wife of an alpha. I had a cousin, too, whose match had a nervous breakdown when he found out about werewolves. We had to wipe it, and her, from his memory."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"Has anybody ever alerted on more than one person?" Stiles asked.
Derek hesitated; something in his eyes gave it away.
"Wait. You've had this happen before?" Stiles propped himself up on his elbow. "Do they know you were trolling that shitty pretentious excuse for a club?"
"She's dead."
Stiles deflated. "Oh."
"It was a long time ago. Don't worry about it."
"If you say so." Stiles smirked down, eyes tracing all the little contours of Derek's neck, his shoulders, his chest. God, he couldn't believe he had this man all to himself.
"Wait, was that what happened with Scott and Allison? Holy crap I'm never living this down oh my god. Shit."
Derek pulled him in for a long, slow kiss, dragging Stiles back down into the bedclothes where they spent the rest of the night.