Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, NC-17 Part Two of Two
Title: Invited Inside
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Summary: Of all the things to finally bite him, a vampire is truly at the bottom of Stiles’ list.
Warnings: Violence, biting, bloodplay, unsafe sex, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 7,139 / 14,146
Rating: NC-17
A/N 1: Set during the summer before senior year. I had Mitchell from Being Human in mind for how Stiles' vampire side works, though it's a very loose interpretation. Written for the Vampire square of THIS kink bingo card. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
A/N 2: This is the last day for my fic giveaway HERE on Tumblr, so feel free to take part if you'd like to try to win a fic and make me write whatever you want! :)
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
Derek’s in the backyard when Stiles drives up a couple of days later. It doesn’t look like he’s up to anything other than waiting for Stiles and he tips his head in acknowledgement to Stiles’ awkward wave.
“Look,” Stiles says, holding up a hand. “No shakes today.”
“Are you hungry?”
Stiles scoffs.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m hungry; it’s just getting easier to go without for longer.”
Derek seems to stand a little straighter as though proud of himself.
“That’s the ultimate goal.”
“Great. Go us. So, what’s the plan for today then?”
“There are four containers of blood in the forest and I want you to find them.”
Stiles sighs.
“Didn’t we do this the other day? Yes, I can find blood from various sources. Yes, I make a good bloodhound.”
He’s disappointed that such a great joke is wasted on Derek because he doesn’t even laugh.
“You have two minutes,” is all Derek says, briefly glancing at his watch. Stiles raises an eyebrow and folds his arms.
“I have time limits now? Since when?”
“One minute fifty two seconds.”
“You do realise there are no motivators involved at all, right?”
Derek stares at him, his patience clearly waning.
“One minute thirty seconds. Get back here in time and I’ll let you feed.”
Stiles perks up at that, eyeing the tree line, already trying to scent out the blood. Derek doesn’t sound as though he joking, so Stiles nods.
“Deal.”
He starts jogging towards the edge of the forest and almost stumbles when Derek speaks again.
“Get back with more than thirty seconds on the clock and I’ll let you use your teeth.”
Stiles speeds up.
*
The first bottle is easy to find, neatly tucked under a log, not too far into the woods. The second is partway up a tree, but it’s not too difficult to grab with his new strength. The third container is buried under a stack of rocks, which is obviously meant to mask the scent, but it doesn’t do anything at all. The last he can tell is by the shallow brook that runs partway through the forest, which slows him down considerably. He stands at the top of a hill, staring down at it warily, his instincts screaming at him not to go any closer.
The blood in the bottle smells familiar and promising, though, so he jogs down and heads directly to the patch of disturbed dirt it’s hidden in. As soon as it’s in his hand, he’s off, sprinting back towards where Derek’s waiting because he really wants to sink his teeth into Derek’s arm. He might even try to push his luck and go for Derek’s throat.
He actually skids across the grass as he comes to a stop beside Derek, not at all out of breath, but feeling as though he should be.
“How much time is left?” Stiles asks, dropping all four bottles to the floor uncaringly. Derek checks his watch, his face not giving away a thing.
“Thirty one seconds.”
Stiles punches the air and lets out a whoop of success, already trailing his gaze along the vulnerable skin of Derek’s elbow, because he’s sure it would look amazing with temporary teeth marks.
“Can I claim my prize?” Stiles questions, but sags when Derek shakes his head.
“We’re not done with the lesson yet. Identify each source,” he tells Stiles, nodding to the bottles scattered around their feet.
Stiles groans and pulls a face, but crouches down and grabs one at random.
“That’s definitely Isaac’s.” He declares, moving quickly onto the next one. “That’s not human. Or wolf.”
He takes a longer sniff and stares up at Derek.
“Am I allowed to taste it?”
“No, this is a lesson in scents.”
Stiles sighs and tries to locate more of the scent around the area and something seems to be coming from deeper in the forest, so he guesses it’s some sort of woodland creature.
“Aw, man. Is that Bambi?”
He drops the bottle and shuffles away from it slightly. The next one he picks up is the one from by the water, but he doesn’t have to open it to know what it is.
“That’s yours. I’m more than familiar with it.”
The last one stops him with something akin to dread in his stomach. He stares down at it in his hand and swallows thickly.
“How did you get my blood?” he asks, a little afraid of the answer.
“Does it smell human to you?”
Stiles shakes his head.
“No, but it definitely smells like me.”
“We gathered that from your Sire,” Derek explains and Stiles really doesn’t want to touch it anymore. He lets the bottle roll off his palm and fails to try to stop it as half of it disappears into a rabbit hole.
“You should get rid of that,” Stiles tells him as he stands again. It sets his teeth on edge and makes him feel strangely vulnerable.
Derek stoops and grabs it from where it’s hidden, opens the cap, and pours the blood out into the grass. Stiles covers his nose with his palm and takes a step back.
“Why do you even have that?” Stiles asks, but Derek doesn’t answer, just collects up the bottles and starts heading towards the house. “Hey! Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales. Don’t forget our bargain. I took part in your training and won fair and square.”
“I know,” Derek says as though it’s obvious. “We’re not doing it out here.”
Stiles lets out a quiet oh before following after Derek, only just keeping himself from slamming the door behind them in his haste. Derek leads the way to the kitchen where he pours the remaining blood down the sink, then turns around to lean against the counter. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to crowd closer when Derek has nowhere to go, but he steps forward, letting Derek see his fangs as they slowly grow.
Derek’s gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth and Stiles unthinkingly licks his bottom lip, the phantom tang of Derek’s blood on his tongue already. Derek holds his arm out and Stiles grips his wrist, staring down at the prominent veins under his skin.
“Any preference where?” Stiles asks, thumb rubbing small semicircles idly.
“No major arteries,” Derek replies pointlessly and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“How about here?”
He slides his hand further up Derek’s arm to touch the soft skin just below the crook of Derek’s elbow.
“Yeah, sure,” Derek says sounding unaffected, but when Stiles brings Derek’s arm up closer to his mouth, he can feel the unsteady beat of his heart under his fingers.
Stiles noses at Derek’s skin, the scent of blood pungent now there’s barely anything separating it from Stiles’ mouth. He’s as gentle as possible when he drags his fangs across the spot he’s chosen before carefully sinking them into Derek’s arm. Derek twitches slightly, but doesn’t pull away and the blood begins to trickle into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles can’t help but let out a quiet noise of happiness as he pushes his teeth in a little further, just to feel the warm taste of Derek on his tongue.
Stiles slides his other hand behind Derek’s elbow, holding him steady as he slowly retracts his fangs and sucks at the marks he leaves behind. The blood is heavy and metallic in his mouth and he watches Derek’s expression as he swallows it down. Derek’s eyes never leave Stiles’ face as though captivated by the sight and Stiles is more than happy to provide. He licks over the skin, just because he can, and Derek makes a soft noise that is anything but a protest.
The blood isn’t as forthcoming now as Derek slowly heals and Stiles pulls his mouth away briefly to stare down at the scabbing skin. When he moves his gaze back to Derek’s face, there’s colour in his cheeks and his lips are wet as though he’s been licking them continuously. When Stiles moves his mouth back to Derek’s arm, just a little further down from the mark he’s already left, Derek doesn’t say a word, but he nods when Stiles’ fangs drop and nudge against the skin.
When Stiles sinks them down again, he makes sure Derek feels everything, from the way his bottom teeth hold him in place to how his tongue slides greedily around for blood before it even appears. Derek’s other hand clutches at Stiles’ hip, pulling him closer until neither of them can go anywhere and Stiles is forced to slip a leg between Derek’s thighs because there isn’t enough room for four knees to coexist comfortably.
Derek doesn’t seem to mind, just grips Stiles tightly and grinds against him ever so softly every time Stiles tenses his jaw. He doesn’t let his fangs withdraw, keeps them buried in Derek’s forearm and lets the blood pour out around them. The tang of Derek seems sweeter now and Stiles wonders if he’s tasting what Derek is feeling. Part of him wants to slip a hand down the front of Derek’s pants to see how that makes him taste.
Stiles moves his hand off of Derek’s elbow and lets it fall to Derek’s thigh, which he grips with tight fingers. Derek lets out a noise that sounds like Stiles’ name and drops his head to Stiles’ shoulder, nose burying into his throat as he lets out long, warm breaths. When Derek drags his own elongated teeth against Stiles’ skin, Stiles pushes forward because it’s turning into a feedback loop of pleasure and he’s never felt anything quite like it.
Belatedly, Stiles realises Derek is hard against his hip and Stiles thinks he should be shocked, but instead he just really wants to watch Derek get off on the biting. He moves his hand to Derek’s ass to let him know how very okay he is with everything and Derek shamelessly grinds harder against him.
Stiles pulls his teeth free just so he can move further down Derek’s arm and sink them back in. He doesn’t even care about drinking blood anymore and Derek seems to realise too because he’s healing faster, letting Stiles bite repeatedly along the sensitive inside of his forearm. Every time Stiles digs his fangs in, Derek shudders and mouths harder along Stiles’ neck, his teeth still there, but he seems more interested in licking than actually putting them to use.
He works his way down Derek’s arm, over his wrist, careful of where he lets his teeth sink in, then across the ball of his hand. When he reaches Derek’s fingers, he tucks his fangs away and drags his bottom teeth against each digit, licking the spaces in between. Derek pulls his hand from Stiles’ grip and for a second Stiles thinks he’s overstepped an unspoken boundary, but Derek pushes two fingers into his mouth, curling them against Stiles’ tongue. Stiles grazes his knuckles with his teeth and then sucks messily, making wet noises that sound vulgar in the otherwise silent room.
Derek actually bites him then, digs his teeth right into Stiles’ neck as though his patience has finally run out and Stiles lets out an abortive sound, but doesn’t try to pull away. Derek’s fingers slip out of his mouth as Derek uses that hand to tilt Stiles’ head, baring more skin for him to abuse.
“Derek,” Stiles breathes out, one palm moving to the back of Derek’s neck to hold him in place. It stings and burns, but Stiles can’t deny that it feels good. He can already sense his body trying to heal around Derek’s teeth, but it fails with every twitch of Derek’s jaw that reopens the marks. He shuts his eyes and exhales shakily, knowing he’s so far in over his head that it’s unreal.
He wonders if he could get away with dragging Derek’s mouth away from his neck to bite at his lips because he’s sure the blood will be richer there and he’ll be able to taste their two flavours mixed together. He gets his fingers in Derek’s hair and starts pulling only to be interrupted by the front door slamming shut. Stiles immediately knows it’s Isaac with his honeyed scent muted by an overlay of chlorine.
He steps back, forcibly tugging Derek’s teeth away, letting blood drip down his neck into the collar of his shirt. He wipes it off his skin with his palm and tries to lean casually against the counter as Derek brushes the back of his hand over his own mouth. They’re both a mess. Derek’s hair is sticking up awkwardly in the back, which is a huge give away, and his pants are tented, even after Derek adjusts himself. His arm is completely healed, but there are bloody mouth prints smeared across his skin in a way that makes Stiles want to lick him again.
Derek clears his throat and spins to face the sink, turning on the faucet and grabbing a few dishes that are actually clean, but he pretends to wash anyway. Isaac strolls in wearing boardshorts and a stretched out tank top, looking exhausted as he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, barely even looking their way.
“Rough day?” Stiles asks, voice breaking embarrassingly in the middle. Isaac grunts and rolls his forehead against his arm.
“Don’t ask.”
He falls quiet and Stiles wonders briefly if he’s asleep. He bites at his thumbnail and knows he should try to make a getaway while he still can.
“Right. Okay. I’m going to get out of your hair,” Stiles declares, edging his way out of the room, hoping Derek doesn’t turn around. “Thanks for the, um, training. It was enlightening.”
He pats Isaac comfortingly on the shoulder as he passes, before heading for the front door when he slips into the hallway. He shuts it as quietly as he can as he leaves and he almost makes it inside his car before Derek catches up and pushes him against the side of the jeep.
He’s too stunned to react when Derek leans in and kisses him, mouth soft and still tasting of blood. It’s not that he’s surprised that it’s happening; just that Derek initiates it. When his brain finally catches up, he places a hand on Derek’s shoulder and tilts his head, kissing back with all that he has. Derek licks briefly between his lips before drawing away and Stiles almost stumbles forwards as he tries to follow him for more.
Stiles blows out a breath that sounds a little stunned even to his own ears and drops his hand, letting it trail down Derek’s chest just because he’s sure he can get away with it. Derek stares at him for a long minute before gently nudging him to the side and opening the car door. Stiles doesn’t move, just smiles crookedly at him.
“This is totally a thing. You’re opening doors for me and everything. You’ve got it bad.”
“Go home, Stiles,” Derek grunts and Stiles hops inside, pulling the door to, and rolling down the window.
“Just say when you want to train again,” he says, punctuating the end with a wink and grin. “Maybe we can keep Isaac out of the house and move it upstairs next time.”
Derek doesn’t say anything, just turns away and starts heading back towards the house. Stiles laughs to himself, starts the jeep, and honks twice as he flicks it into reverse.
He feels more alive than he ever remembers being before he died.
*
Stiles never thought he’d ever Google the question can vampires get boners? but his life seems to have taken a sharp u-turn, although he’s sure he should be more upset about that than he is. There are no concrete answers, but the general consensus seems to be that, yes, they can, but they need to feed fully before anything happens. It means he can totally have sex with Derek.
He pumps his fist into the air and does a victory spin in his chair.
It’s been a couple of days since everything went down between them, but now he’s thinking seriously about texting Derek about “training” in the morning. However, he gets distracted by the other vampire questions floating around on the message board he’s browsing.
Most of it he already knows from what Scott told him, but there are a few new things, one of which is the fact that some unfortunate vampires end up with OCD revolving around the need to count. All he can think of is Sesame Street and he wonders if Scott would appreciate a call from him laughing like The Count.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he says to himself as he carries on scrolling down the page. His eyes stop roving as he gets near the end and he shuts his open mouth with a click.
A sole bite is not enough to create a new, autonomous vampiric form. Blood of the sire must be ingested in order for the new form to take.
Stiles is pretty sure that if he had a heartbeat it would skip. He doesn’t remember drinking any blood. At least, not while he was conscious. He never would have agreed to it.
He’s dialling Scott’s number before it even registers.
“What’s up?” Scott answers after three rings.
“Who turned me?” Stiles asks immediately and gets a long pause for his troubles.
“What are you talking about?”
Stiles reads the two sentences aloud for him and slouches back in his chair.
“Where did you find that?” Scott asks and Stiles knows he’s onto something because Scott is sounding pretty guilty, though he’s always been terrible at keeping secrets.
“It wasn’t you, was it?” Stiles asks, making it sound more like a statement, though he doesn’t wait for an answer before he carries on. “You would have admitted to something by now. I only remember seeing Isaac and Derek that night, so it was one of them, right?”
“Stiles,” Scott implores, obviously not wanting Stiles to continue his barrage, but Stiles is on a roll.
“It was Derek, wasn’t it? He’s full of bad ideas. God, I’m going to kick his ass.”
Scott gives it away when he pleads with Stiles to cut him some slack, but Stiles hangs up on him and grabs his hoodie. He needs to pay Derek a visit for an entirely different reason now.
*
He doesn’t bother throwing stones at the window this time, just climbs straight up the side of the house and bangs on it with his fist instead.
“I know you did this to me, you son of a bitch!”
He doesn’t care if he wakes everyone in the house; he’s seeing red and his fangs are lengthening, ready for a fight.
The window slides open before Derek even puts on a light, but Stiles can see his face and his expression gives him away. It’s clear he’s prepared for Stiles’ anger, which means he knows what it’s all about before Stiles even begins to rant.
“Let me in, Derek, or I swear to God - ”
Derek’s jaw twitches, but then he steps aside, and sweeps his arm back in what should be an inviting gesture, but just makes Stiles angrier.
“Get inside.”
Stiles vaults over the windowsill and lands on light feet just in front of Derek. When he tries to grab the collar of Derek’s shirt, Derek brushes his hand away with strength that Stiles envies.
“You did this to me,” he repeats, glaring hotly at Derek, who doesn’t even twitch.
“I did what had to be done.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” Stiles snarls, anger prickling up the back of his neck. “I never asked for this.”
“You think I wanted to turn you?” Derek asks.
“Well, obviously, otherwise you would have let me die as a human, which, FYI, is what you should have done. I’ve never even wanted to be a werewolf. Why would I want to be a vampire?”
“You think we wanted you to die, huh? You think Scott wouldn’t do everything he could to keep you alive? What if you were in his place? You’d let him bleed out?”
Stiles folds his arms because it might be the truth, but it doesn’t make anything right.
“Well, I guess Scott and I have more in common now. We were both turned against our will by members of the Hale family.”
Derek sets his jaw and mimics Stiles’ stance with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What about your dad? You think he would have wanted Scott to show up on his doorstep to tell him the news? How do you think he’d feel if he lost you too?”
It’s a seriously low blow and Stiles lunges before he can even stop to think about it. He gets a hand around Derek’s throat and digs his nails in, trying to overbalance him. Derek seems to anticipate it because he grabs Stiles’ forearm and twists it away sharply, jarring Stiles’ shoulder.
“You think guilt tripping me will make this okay?” Stiles spits around his teeth. “My dad deals with enough bad guys without me becoming one of them.”
“Which is why we’re training,” Derek points out. “You’re still you, Stiles. The teeth don’t change that. Do you see Scott any differently from when he was human? He’s still Scott to you and you’re still Stiles to him.”
Stiles’ rage still simmers beneath his skin, but he takes a breath a gathers his thoughts.
“That’s not the point,” he says with a glare. “The point is that I never wanted to be this in the first place.”
“But you are now,” Derek replies, not unkindly, but it still grates. “You can’t change it, so why not embrace it.”
Stiles scoffs.
“I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of that so far. I think I took the initial reveal a whole hell of a lot better than most people would.”
“Excluding now?”
“Screw you, buddy. I thought I turned automatically. I didn’t know that you decided the rest of my life for me. Without my input. You might be able to see why I’m a little upset now.”
“Make the best with the cards you’ve been dealt,” Derek tells him, sounding like the slip of paper inside a fortune cookie and Stiles wants to punch him.
“Yeah, you’ve already said that and it’s still a load of bull. No one will ever live willingly with a vampire.”
“You’re not the strangest thing out there,” Derek says before he pauses briefly as though trying to decide whether to speak or not. “Just find someone who likes biting as much as you do.”
“And now he decides to find a sense of humour,” Stiles mumbles to himself, but Derek looks pretty serious. “Okay, well find someone else to tell knock-knock jokes to because I’m going home.”
He turns and heads for the window, shoulders feeling heavy and there’s an unsatisfied lump in his stomach, though he knows he should never have expected closure from someone like Derek. The guy’s allergic to it.
“Do you want to feed?” comes Derek’s quiet voice, just as Stiles gets a foot out onto the windowsill. He freezes because he thinks he mishears him, but now that his hearing has improved, he knows he hasn’t.
“That’s counterproductive,” Stiles points out, still crouched awkwardly. “I thought I was meant to go as long as possible between feeds.” He does, however, remember his last feeding attempt. Vividly. “Is this some part of a new positive reinforcement programme? I stop myself from maiming you and I get blood in return?”
“It could calm you.”
Doubtful, Stiles thinks because if he’s feeding from Derek tonight, he’s going for the throat.
He steps back into the room, turning to face Derek as he narrows his eyes.
“I’ve had the worst night ever,” Stiles says taking a step closer. “This is going to be on my terms.”
Derek nods, his mouth barely more than a thin line.
“Shirt off,” Stiles continues and Derek obeys without a word, pulling the worn material over his head before balling it up and tossing it to one side.
When Stiles closes the space between them and gets a hand in Derek’s hair, tilting his head to the side before letting his fang slide free, Derek tenses.
“Stiles,” he warns, but Stiles just smiles wryly.
“I thought the teeth didn’t define me, Derek. Weren’t you just saying that? You’re not a bad guy, Stiles,” Stiles mocks with his best impression of Derek’s voice. “Am I still allowed to feed?”
He breathes against Derek’s neck, watching the quick rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in the artery just below thin skin. He really wants Derek to say yes, so he can sink his teeth into the unmarred flesh. Derek nods, but it’s not good enough. Stiles tightens his grip, tugging Derek’s hair harder until he makes a quiet sound.
“Jesus, Stiles. Yes.”
Stiles is careful to avoid anything major, but it’s pure bliss when he presses his teeth down and latches onto Derek’s throat. The blood seeps into his mouth immediately and one of Derek’s hands comes up to the small of his back, holding him close. Stiles is almost positive it’s going to end up like the kitchen incident.
He hums lightly against Derek’s skin, sucking hard to get the most of what he wants. It doesn’t calm him in the least; if anything, it makes him feel antsy and awake, as though he’s pulled an all-nighter. When he shifts his mouth a little to the left and bites down again, Derek lets out a shallow breath and stumbles back a pace, hitting the edge of his mattress with a dull thump.
Stiles’ teeth slip free when Derek drops down to sit, but it takes no time at all for Stiles to slide into Derek’s lap and latch on to a new section of skin. Derek pulls him closer, hands tucking under Stiles’ thighs and dragging him forward.
Stiles is certain now that Derek was talking about himself when he told Stiles to find someone who likes biting.
There are no protests as Stiles swallows mouthful after mouthful of blood, wanting to see if the internet is correct. Derek just keeps his head tipped to one side, not fighting the hand that holds him there. Stiles really likes this submissive side of Derek.
Derek shifts beneath him, legs spreading a little wider, clearly trying to make room in his pants for something. Stiles gets the message and grinds down, circling his hips to feel Derek harden under him. He trails his mouth further along Derek’s neck, pushing his teeth into the curve of Derek’s shoulder, which makes Derek flinch.
Stiles pulls back to gauge Derek’s reaction because he’s only doing this if they’re both onboard. Derek’s pupils are blown out and his teeth are too large for his mouth, but he meets Stiles’ gaze and nods.
“Keep going,” he murmurs and Stiles is back to sucking at his skin in an instant.
There’s blood dripping over Derek’s collarbone now, but the puncture marks have already healed by the time Stiles swipes his tongue over them. He just makes new ones, a long row of them, letting them bleed before he licks it all up.
His stomach feels strangely full and he’s not sure how much he’s had, but Derek is starting to look a little pale, so he tucks his fangs away and mouths at Derek’s skin with blunter teeth. Derek rocks against him, each uneven breath blowing hotly over Stiles’ shoulder.
Stiles’ night has greatly improved.
When he pulls back, staring at the bruising he’s left behind, which fades even as he watches, he begins to feel warmth in his veins. It’s a strange sensation, like drinking hot coffee and feeling it all the way down to his stomach. He’s not going to count his chickens and all that, but he’s sure the internet might actually be right about something finally. He pushes his hips forward and it’s definitely his own boner he nudges into Derek’s stomach.
He decides to grab life by the horns then and there.
“Lie back,” he orders, pulling his fingers free from Derek’s hair.
Derek does as he’s told, lying flat and looking ready for Stiles to ruin. Stiles drags his mouth further down Derek’s chest, nipping sharply at the skin periodically and Derek’s muscles twitch under his lips each time. He almost thinks Derek’s going to buck him straight off his lap when he gets his teeth around the bud of Derek’s nipple. Derek curses loudly and Stiles just grins and does it again with the other one.
To reach lower, Stiles has to kneel awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s worth it to be able to trace his tongue around Derek’s navel before dipping it inside briefly, just to tease. Derek slides his hands above his head, tangling his fingers in the sheets and moving gently under Stiles’ mouth, rolling his hips into each touch Stiles offers. Stiles doesn’t even know who’s being rewarded anymore.
He bites the skin right above the waistband of Derek’s sweats and rubs Derek through the material, just to see if he’ll make a noise. He does. It’s low and rumbling and Stiles feels it all the way down to his toes. Derek lifts into Stiles’ palm, his eyes hooded as he tracks every move Stiles makes.
When Stiles sits up, he can’t help but appreciate the sight before him. He reaches out with one hand and drags his blunt nails over Derek’s stomach, watching the muscles quiver and jump.
“I want to fuck you,” Stiles says, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s jeans.
For a long minute Stiles thinks Derek doesn’t hear him, but then he nods and makes a noise that sounds like he clearly wants it.
“Yeah. Okay,” Derek breathes out as though that’s all he has the strength to say and Stiles’ fingers are already tugging at the tie on his sweats. He gets off the bed to pull them down Derek’s legs, letting them flop to the floor before leaning forward to press his mouth to Derek’s cock through his briefs.
Derek cants his hips up and Stiles grazes him with his teeth, dragging them purposefully along the line of him. He can’t stop himself from darting his tongue out to lick at the wet spot where Derek’s already leaking. He’s more than a little turned on by how easy it is to tease Derek, to make his arch his back and ache for it.
When Stiles finally takes pity on him and pulls his underwear down to drop it alongside the rest of his clothes, Derek spreads his legs unashamedly, everything for Stiles’ eyes only. It’s a good look for him.
“Lube?” Stiles asks, one hand rubbing up and down Derek’s thigh, and Derek gestures to the nightstand.
When Stiles finds the bottle, it’s half-empty, and Stiles is blindsided by images of Derek fingering himself. He has to take a moment to push his palm against his own cock because it’s so hard that it’s starting to hurt.
“Feet up,” Stiles instructs and Derek doesn’t hesitate before following the order. He digs his heels into the mattress and lets his knees fall apart, giving Stiles all the space he needs.
When he slicks his fingers and tosses the lube aside, it’s almost too easy to circle a finger around Derek’s entrance to draw more noises from him. It’s all nonsense, just mumbled syllables, but it’s all for Stiles and that’s what matters. He slips the first finger inside and crooks it, watching as Derek falls apart below him. His face is still a mess of sharp lines, but they seem softer when Derek starts telling Stiles to hurry up.
Just because he can, Stiles takes his time, stretching Derek out with two then three fingers, noticing every twitch of Derek’s thighs and knowing it happens every time Stiles changes the angle. He could do it all day, just spent a lazy afternoon unhurriedly fucking Derek with his fingers to watch him give in and come all over his stomach completely untouched.
For now, he knows Derek’s ready and not just because Derek has spent the last eight minutes telling Stiles so. Stiles is finally going to end his misery because Derek’s cock is reddened and looks sore, which he’ll take full responsibility for.
He pulls his fingers free and wipes them on the sheets, grabbing the lube again before pausing.
“I’m dead, so I’m sure I can’t spread anything, but if it makes you more comfortable I’ll wear a condom.”
Derek shakes his head.
“No. Like that.”
Stiles unbuttons and unzips his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down only enough to free his cock. Derek doesn’t even try to hide that he’s staring and Stiles takes the time to slick himself, circling a thumb around the head and watching Derek’s eyes follow the moment.
“C’mere,” Stiles says eventually, grabbing Derek by the ankles and tugging. His supernatural strength lets him drag Derek into the position he wants him at the edge of the mattress. With his hips hanging over, legs dangling awkwardly either side of Stiles’ body, Stiles grabs Derek behind the knees and pushes, folding him slightly and letting him rest his calves on Stiles’ shoulders. Derek doesn’t seem to mind the manhandling and it turns Stiles on to know that he’s getting away with it when he normally wouldn’t.
He takes one hand off to line himself up and then he leans his weight forward, slipping slowly inside Derek. It’s the heat that hits him first, takes his breath away as the tip of his cock slides into the welcoming warmth easily. Derek’s breathing turns uneven and his heartbeat even more so, but he’s radiating satisfaction and when Stiles meets his eyes, he nods for Stiles to continue.
Stiles bottoms out and has to pause to keep himself from coming too quickly. Derek, thankfully, doesn’t seem in any better condition because his cock leaks a thick drop of precome that slides into the hollow of his hip and makes Stiles want to lick it up. Stiles turns his face to the side and trails his mouth along Derek’s lower leg, flicking his tongue over his knee and loving the way Derek squeezes around him in response.
“You want me to move?” Stiles asks when he draws away and Derek frowns.
Instead of answering, Derek slides a leg free from Stiles’ shoulder, curls it around the small of Stiles’ back, and pulls him forward, deeper. Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice.
His thrusts start out slow and even, still giving Derek time to adjust before Derek makes an impatient noise and Stiles’ hips falter. When he draws out and slams back in with intent, Derek seems to go boneless and Stiles has to hold his legs up to keep them from falling down. He uses his grip to add force behind each twitch of his hips and it sounds suspiciously as though Derek rips a hole in his sheets where his hands are still tangled above his head.
“This good?” Stiles asks with a smirk, attempting to knock the breath straight out of Derek. He spreads Derek’s legs further apart, fucking into him with an unsteady rhythm just to keep him alert.
“Stiles,” Derek growls, lashing an arm out and catching Stiles behind the head.
Derek obviously doesn’t seem to care that he’s bent in half awkwardly because he drags Stiles down until Stiles has to let go of one of Derek’s thighs to throw a hand out to stop himself from falling forward completely. When Derek kisses him, it’s messy and uncoordinated, but Derek licks between his lips and repeats Stiles’ name as he arches up.
Stiles lets his fangs drop and catches the delicate skin of Derek’s mouth, smearing blood between them, but Derek just makes a hollow noise, bucks upwards, and comes across his own stomach and part of Stiles’ hoodie. It’s not what Stiles expects, it’s even better.
He laps at the blood and circles his hips, softening his thrusts into long, deep movements because he’s so close he can almost taste it. All it takes is Derek latching onto Stiles’ bottom lip with sharp teeth in return to get him there. He shoves forward as far as he can go and comes hard enough that it makes one thigh cramp painfully.
He’s pretty sure there’s no actual come involved and when he pulls out after a long moment, he finds it’s true because the only mess between Derek’s thighs is that from the lube earlier. He can’t help but run his thumb over Derek’s entrance gently, feeling where he’s soft and open and still suffering from aftershocks. Derek bats his hand away before he can do anything more and Stiles finds he doesn’t care because all he wants is to sleep forever.
Derek’s finally right about being calm, but for an entirely different reason.
Carefully, Stiles lets Derek’s legs go, watching as Derek tries to catch his breath subtly. It’s not working in his favour, but Stiles pats his thigh and moves around the bed to grab a handful of tissues. He cleans Derek up the best he can before walking into the ensuite to throw the mess in the trash, tuck himself back into his pants, and wash his hands.
Without a reflection, Stiles can’t tell what he looks like, but his face feels flushed from exertion and his lip is still in the process of healing. He probably looks exhausted and in need of a good sleep, which is what he plans on doing. He just doesn’t know what the Derek Hale Post-Sex Etiquette is. Does he try to sneak into his bed, or should he just go straight back home?
He leaves the bathroom, still undecided, but it seems that Derek’s taken the liberty of choosing instead.
Derek is tucked up under the sheets with his back to Stiles, but the other side of the bed has clearly been left free for him. The corner of the blanket is even folded down in invitation.
Stiles isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He undresses and slips into bed, shuffling closer for a bit more of Derek’s warmth. Derek grunts, mumbles something about ice cold feet along with a few choice adjectives about vampires, before settling back down.
“I’m still a little angry,” Stiles mutters quietly against Derek’s shoulder because sex doesn’t exactly fix anything. It just postpones things a little while longer.
“I’m still not going to apologise for saving your life,” Derek retorts, sounding far more awake than he did a few seconds ago.
Stiles huffs softly at the fact that at least they’ve got the whole unstoppable force meets an immovable object thing going for them again.
“Just don’t steal the sheets,” is all Stiles says, finally getting comfortable and shutting his eyes.
Derek shifts and it seems far too accidental to actually be so as their legs tangle together, but Stiles doesn’t pull away.
*
Stiles wakes to the noise of birds, which isn’t all that different from a regular morning, except they seem a thousand times louder now. He blinks against the bright light flooding into the room and lifts his head from where it’s pillowed by Derek’s bicep. The curtains are wide open which is obviously part of the problem, but the rest of it is because they apparently never got around to shutting the window the night before. As it is, there’s a row of sparrows perched along the telephone wire that connects to the house just above Derek’s room. They’re all singing happily and Stiles feels a little bit like Cinderella. Except that part of him wants to kill them all.
He grumbles quietly and flops back into Derek’s space, knowing he won’t be able to get back to sleep. When Derek shifts behind him, he briefly feels guilty for waking him, but then Derek sinks his blunt teeth into Stiles’ shoulder just hard enough to make the skin ache.
“Ow,” Stiles complains, trying to turn his face so he can reciprocate with the delicate skin of Derek’s arm, but Derek rolls over, taking most of the sheet with him. “What was that for?”
“Isaac’s making coffee downstairs,” is all Derek mumbles even though Stiles can smell it himself.
“Get me a cup too when you’re down there then,” Stiles retorts, but coffee really does sound like a good idea.
Derek turns back over and frowns at him, which doesn’t work at all because he just looks sleep rumpled and soft. Stiles tries his best to glare at him in return, but ends up laughing and leaning forwards to press a kiss to Derek’s downturned lips.
“Just so you know, I’m only going downstairs because that smells amazing. You better be grateful if I decide to bring you some.”
Derek grunts as though he doesn’t care, but rubs at Stiles’ hip with a warm palm. Stiles grins and slips out of bed, grabbing Derek’s sweats from the floor because they’re the closest thing available and he ties the drawstring as he leaves the room.
When Stiles stumbles into the kitchen, he finds Isaac slouched over the table, a mug of coffee that seems untouched in front of him.
“Morning,” Stiles says, grabbing two cups from the cupboard before moving to the coffee machine and filling them up. He adds creamer to both and turns to see Isaac hasn’t moved at all. “Everything alright?”
“Next time you get into an argument with Derek and decide to have make-up sex two minutes later, do it at your own house.”
“Oh god,” Stiles mumbles before he flees.
He really wants to laugh, but waits until he’s halfway up the stairs to let it out, embarrassment burning his face.
“I think we broke Isaac,” Stiles says, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot. He watches Derek as he rubs at his face and sits up, looking suspiciously like he might have fallen back asleep for the five minutes Stiles was gone. He takes the coffee Stiles offers up and begins sipping at it slowly.
“He should be glad we didn’t use his bed,” Derek replies, voice a little louder than normal, obviously for Isaac’s benefit.
There’s a bang from downstairs that’s probably the front door closing behind Isaac as he leaves and Stiles hides his smile in his mug.
“If he’s gone, does that mean we can start round two?”
“Finish your coffee,” Derek says and Stiles is almost sure he’s not imagining the fact that it sounds distinctly like a request.
« PART ONE
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Summary: Of all the things to finally bite him, a vampire is truly at the bottom of Stiles’ list.
Warnings: Violence, biting, bloodplay, unsafe sex, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 7,139 / 14,146
Rating: NC-17
A/N 1: Set during the summer before senior year. I had Mitchell from Being Human in mind for how Stiles' vampire side works, though it's a very loose interpretation. Written for the Vampire square of THIS kink bingo card. Please feel free to point out any mistakes/offer concrit.
A/N 2: This is the last day for my fic giveaway HERE on Tumblr, so feel free to take part if you'd like to try to win a fic and make me write whatever you want! :)
Disclaimer: I am not associated with the Teen Wolf or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
Derek’s in the backyard when Stiles drives up a couple of days later. It doesn’t look like he’s up to anything other than waiting for Stiles and he tips his head in acknowledgement to Stiles’ awkward wave.
“Look,” Stiles says, holding up a hand. “No shakes today.”
“Are you hungry?”
Stiles scoffs.
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m hungry; it’s just getting easier to go without for longer.”
Derek seems to stand a little straighter as though proud of himself.
“That’s the ultimate goal.”
“Great. Go us. So, what’s the plan for today then?”
“There are four containers of blood in the forest and I want you to find them.”
Stiles sighs.
“Didn’t we do this the other day? Yes, I can find blood from various sources. Yes, I make a good bloodhound.”
He’s disappointed that such a great joke is wasted on Derek because he doesn’t even laugh.
“You have two minutes,” is all Derek says, briefly glancing at his watch. Stiles raises an eyebrow and folds his arms.
“I have time limits now? Since when?”
“One minute fifty two seconds.”
“You do realise there are no motivators involved at all, right?”
Derek stares at him, his patience clearly waning.
“One minute thirty seconds. Get back here in time and I’ll let you feed.”
Stiles perks up at that, eyeing the tree line, already trying to scent out the blood. Derek doesn’t sound as though he joking, so Stiles nods.
“Deal.”
He starts jogging towards the edge of the forest and almost stumbles when Derek speaks again.
“Get back with more than thirty seconds on the clock and I’ll let you use your teeth.”
Stiles speeds up.
*
The first bottle is easy to find, neatly tucked under a log, not too far into the woods. The second is partway up a tree, but it’s not too difficult to grab with his new strength. The third container is buried under a stack of rocks, which is obviously meant to mask the scent, but it doesn’t do anything at all. The last he can tell is by the shallow brook that runs partway through the forest, which slows him down considerably. He stands at the top of a hill, staring down at it warily, his instincts screaming at him not to go any closer.
The blood in the bottle smells familiar and promising, though, so he jogs down and heads directly to the patch of disturbed dirt it’s hidden in. As soon as it’s in his hand, he’s off, sprinting back towards where Derek’s waiting because he really wants to sink his teeth into Derek’s arm. He might even try to push his luck and go for Derek’s throat.
He actually skids across the grass as he comes to a stop beside Derek, not at all out of breath, but feeling as though he should be.
“How much time is left?” Stiles asks, dropping all four bottles to the floor uncaringly. Derek checks his watch, his face not giving away a thing.
“Thirty one seconds.”
Stiles punches the air and lets out a whoop of success, already trailing his gaze along the vulnerable skin of Derek’s elbow, because he’s sure it would look amazing with temporary teeth marks.
“Can I claim my prize?” Stiles questions, but sags when Derek shakes his head.
“We’re not done with the lesson yet. Identify each source,” he tells Stiles, nodding to the bottles scattered around their feet.
Stiles groans and pulls a face, but crouches down and grabs one at random.
“That’s definitely Isaac’s.” He declares, moving quickly onto the next one. “That’s not human. Or wolf.”
He takes a longer sniff and stares up at Derek.
“Am I allowed to taste it?”
“No, this is a lesson in scents.”
Stiles sighs and tries to locate more of the scent around the area and something seems to be coming from deeper in the forest, so he guesses it’s some sort of woodland creature.
“Aw, man. Is that Bambi?”
He drops the bottle and shuffles away from it slightly. The next one he picks up is the one from by the water, but he doesn’t have to open it to know what it is.
“That’s yours. I’m more than familiar with it.”
The last one stops him with something akin to dread in his stomach. He stares down at it in his hand and swallows thickly.
“How did you get my blood?” he asks, a little afraid of the answer.
“Does it smell human to you?”
Stiles shakes his head.
“No, but it definitely smells like me.”
“We gathered that from your Sire,” Derek explains and Stiles really doesn’t want to touch it anymore. He lets the bottle roll off his palm and fails to try to stop it as half of it disappears into a rabbit hole.
“You should get rid of that,” Stiles tells him as he stands again. It sets his teeth on edge and makes him feel strangely vulnerable.
Derek stoops and grabs it from where it’s hidden, opens the cap, and pours the blood out into the grass. Stiles covers his nose with his palm and takes a step back.
“Why do you even have that?” Stiles asks, but Derek doesn’t answer, just collects up the bottles and starts heading towards the house. “Hey! Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales. Don’t forget our bargain. I took part in your training and won fair and square.”
“I know,” Derek says as though it’s obvious. “We’re not doing it out here.”
Stiles lets out a quiet oh before following after Derek, only just keeping himself from slamming the door behind them in his haste. Derek leads the way to the kitchen where he pours the remaining blood down the sink, then turns around to lean against the counter. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to crowd closer when Derek has nowhere to go, but he steps forward, letting Derek see his fangs as they slowly grow.
Derek’s gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth and Stiles unthinkingly licks his bottom lip, the phantom tang of Derek’s blood on his tongue already. Derek holds his arm out and Stiles grips his wrist, staring down at the prominent veins under his skin.
“Any preference where?” Stiles asks, thumb rubbing small semicircles idly.
“No major arteries,” Derek replies pointlessly and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“How about here?”
He slides his hand further up Derek’s arm to touch the soft skin just below the crook of Derek’s elbow.
“Yeah, sure,” Derek says sounding unaffected, but when Stiles brings Derek’s arm up closer to his mouth, he can feel the unsteady beat of his heart under his fingers.
Stiles noses at Derek’s skin, the scent of blood pungent now there’s barely anything separating it from Stiles’ mouth. He’s as gentle as possible when he drags his fangs across the spot he’s chosen before carefully sinking them into Derek’s arm. Derek twitches slightly, but doesn’t pull away and the blood begins to trickle into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles can’t help but let out a quiet noise of happiness as he pushes his teeth in a little further, just to feel the warm taste of Derek on his tongue.
Stiles slides his other hand behind Derek’s elbow, holding him steady as he slowly retracts his fangs and sucks at the marks he leaves behind. The blood is heavy and metallic in his mouth and he watches Derek’s expression as he swallows it down. Derek’s eyes never leave Stiles’ face as though captivated by the sight and Stiles is more than happy to provide. He licks over the skin, just because he can, and Derek makes a soft noise that is anything but a protest.
The blood isn’t as forthcoming now as Derek slowly heals and Stiles pulls his mouth away briefly to stare down at the scabbing skin. When he moves his gaze back to Derek’s face, there’s colour in his cheeks and his lips are wet as though he’s been licking them continuously. When Stiles moves his mouth back to Derek’s arm, just a little further down from the mark he’s already left, Derek doesn’t say a word, but he nods when Stiles’ fangs drop and nudge against the skin.
When Stiles sinks them down again, he makes sure Derek feels everything, from the way his bottom teeth hold him in place to how his tongue slides greedily around for blood before it even appears. Derek’s other hand clutches at Stiles’ hip, pulling him closer until neither of them can go anywhere and Stiles is forced to slip a leg between Derek’s thighs because there isn’t enough room for four knees to coexist comfortably.
Derek doesn’t seem to mind, just grips Stiles tightly and grinds against him ever so softly every time Stiles tenses his jaw. He doesn’t let his fangs withdraw, keeps them buried in Derek’s forearm and lets the blood pour out around them. The tang of Derek seems sweeter now and Stiles wonders if he’s tasting what Derek is feeling. Part of him wants to slip a hand down the front of Derek’s pants to see how that makes him taste.
Stiles moves his hand off of Derek’s elbow and lets it fall to Derek’s thigh, which he grips with tight fingers. Derek lets out a noise that sounds like Stiles’ name and drops his head to Stiles’ shoulder, nose burying into his throat as he lets out long, warm breaths. When Derek drags his own elongated teeth against Stiles’ skin, Stiles pushes forward because it’s turning into a feedback loop of pleasure and he’s never felt anything quite like it.
Belatedly, Stiles realises Derek is hard against his hip and Stiles thinks he should be shocked, but instead he just really wants to watch Derek get off on the biting. He moves his hand to Derek’s ass to let him know how very okay he is with everything and Derek shamelessly grinds harder against him.
Stiles pulls his teeth free just so he can move further down Derek’s arm and sink them back in. He doesn’t even care about drinking blood anymore and Derek seems to realise too because he’s healing faster, letting Stiles bite repeatedly along the sensitive inside of his forearm. Every time Stiles digs his fangs in, Derek shudders and mouths harder along Stiles’ neck, his teeth still there, but he seems more interested in licking than actually putting them to use.
He works his way down Derek’s arm, over his wrist, careful of where he lets his teeth sink in, then across the ball of his hand. When he reaches Derek’s fingers, he tucks his fangs away and drags his bottom teeth against each digit, licking the spaces in between. Derek pulls his hand from Stiles’ grip and for a second Stiles thinks he’s overstepped an unspoken boundary, but Derek pushes two fingers into his mouth, curling them against Stiles’ tongue. Stiles grazes his knuckles with his teeth and then sucks messily, making wet noises that sound vulgar in the otherwise silent room.
Derek actually bites him then, digs his teeth right into Stiles’ neck as though his patience has finally run out and Stiles lets out an abortive sound, but doesn’t try to pull away. Derek’s fingers slip out of his mouth as Derek uses that hand to tilt Stiles’ head, baring more skin for him to abuse.
“Derek,” Stiles breathes out, one palm moving to the back of Derek’s neck to hold him in place. It stings and burns, but Stiles can’t deny that it feels good. He can already sense his body trying to heal around Derek’s teeth, but it fails with every twitch of Derek’s jaw that reopens the marks. He shuts his eyes and exhales shakily, knowing he’s so far in over his head that it’s unreal.
He wonders if he could get away with dragging Derek’s mouth away from his neck to bite at his lips because he’s sure the blood will be richer there and he’ll be able to taste their two flavours mixed together. He gets his fingers in Derek’s hair and starts pulling only to be interrupted by the front door slamming shut. Stiles immediately knows it’s Isaac with his honeyed scent muted by an overlay of chlorine.
He steps back, forcibly tugging Derek’s teeth away, letting blood drip down his neck into the collar of his shirt. He wipes it off his skin with his palm and tries to lean casually against the counter as Derek brushes the back of his hand over his own mouth. They’re both a mess. Derek’s hair is sticking up awkwardly in the back, which is a huge give away, and his pants are tented, even after Derek adjusts himself. His arm is completely healed, but there are bloody mouth prints smeared across his skin in a way that makes Stiles want to lick him again.
Derek clears his throat and spins to face the sink, turning on the faucet and grabbing a few dishes that are actually clean, but he pretends to wash anyway. Isaac strolls in wearing boardshorts and a stretched out tank top, looking exhausted as he slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, barely even looking their way.
“Rough day?” Stiles asks, voice breaking embarrassingly in the middle. Isaac grunts and rolls his forehead against his arm.
“Don’t ask.”
He falls quiet and Stiles wonders briefly if he’s asleep. He bites at his thumbnail and knows he should try to make a getaway while he still can.
“Right. Okay. I’m going to get out of your hair,” Stiles declares, edging his way out of the room, hoping Derek doesn’t turn around. “Thanks for the, um, training. It was enlightening.”
He pats Isaac comfortingly on the shoulder as he passes, before heading for the front door when he slips into the hallway. He shuts it as quietly as he can as he leaves and he almost makes it inside his car before Derek catches up and pushes him against the side of the jeep.
He’s too stunned to react when Derek leans in and kisses him, mouth soft and still tasting of blood. It’s not that he’s surprised that it’s happening; just that Derek initiates it. When his brain finally catches up, he places a hand on Derek’s shoulder and tilts his head, kissing back with all that he has. Derek licks briefly between his lips before drawing away and Stiles almost stumbles forwards as he tries to follow him for more.
Stiles blows out a breath that sounds a little stunned even to his own ears and drops his hand, letting it trail down Derek’s chest just because he’s sure he can get away with it. Derek stares at him for a long minute before gently nudging him to the side and opening the car door. Stiles doesn’t move, just smiles crookedly at him.
“This is totally a thing. You’re opening doors for me and everything. You’ve got it bad.”
“Go home, Stiles,” Derek grunts and Stiles hops inside, pulling the door to, and rolling down the window.
“Just say when you want to train again,” he says, punctuating the end with a wink and grin. “Maybe we can keep Isaac out of the house and move it upstairs next time.”
Derek doesn’t say anything, just turns away and starts heading back towards the house. Stiles laughs to himself, starts the jeep, and honks twice as he flicks it into reverse.
He feels more alive than he ever remembers being before he died.
*
Stiles never thought he’d ever Google the question can vampires get boners? but his life seems to have taken a sharp u-turn, although he’s sure he should be more upset about that than he is. There are no concrete answers, but the general consensus seems to be that, yes, they can, but they need to feed fully before anything happens. It means he can totally have sex with Derek.
He pumps his fist into the air and does a victory spin in his chair.
It’s been a couple of days since everything went down between them, but now he’s thinking seriously about texting Derek about “training” in the morning. However, he gets distracted by the other vampire questions floating around on the message board he’s browsing.
Most of it he already knows from what Scott told him, but there are a few new things, one of which is the fact that some unfortunate vampires end up with OCD revolving around the need to count. All he can think of is Sesame Street and he wonders if Scott would appreciate a call from him laughing like The Count.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he says to himself as he carries on scrolling down the page. His eyes stop roving as he gets near the end and he shuts his open mouth with a click.
A sole bite is not enough to create a new, autonomous vampiric form. Blood of the sire must be ingested in order for the new form to take.
Stiles is pretty sure that if he had a heartbeat it would skip. He doesn’t remember drinking any blood. At least, not while he was conscious. He never would have agreed to it.
He’s dialling Scott’s number before it even registers.
“What’s up?” Scott answers after three rings.
“Who turned me?” Stiles asks immediately and gets a long pause for his troubles.
“What are you talking about?”
Stiles reads the two sentences aloud for him and slouches back in his chair.
“Where did you find that?” Scott asks and Stiles knows he’s onto something because Scott is sounding pretty guilty, though he’s always been terrible at keeping secrets.
“It wasn’t you, was it?” Stiles asks, making it sound more like a statement, though he doesn’t wait for an answer before he carries on. “You would have admitted to something by now. I only remember seeing Isaac and Derek that night, so it was one of them, right?”
“Stiles,” Scott implores, obviously not wanting Stiles to continue his barrage, but Stiles is on a roll.
“It was Derek, wasn’t it? He’s full of bad ideas. God, I’m going to kick his ass.”
Scott gives it away when he pleads with Stiles to cut him some slack, but Stiles hangs up on him and grabs his hoodie. He needs to pay Derek a visit for an entirely different reason now.
*
He doesn’t bother throwing stones at the window this time, just climbs straight up the side of the house and bangs on it with his fist instead.
“I know you did this to me, you son of a bitch!”
He doesn’t care if he wakes everyone in the house; he’s seeing red and his fangs are lengthening, ready for a fight.
The window slides open before Derek even puts on a light, but Stiles can see his face and his expression gives him away. It’s clear he’s prepared for Stiles’ anger, which means he knows what it’s all about before Stiles even begins to rant.
“Let me in, Derek, or I swear to God - ”
Derek’s jaw twitches, but then he steps aside, and sweeps his arm back in what should be an inviting gesture, but just makes Stiles angrier.
“Get inside.”
Stiles vaults over the windowsill and lands on light feet just in front of Derek. When he tries to grab the collar of Derek’s shirt, Derek brushes his hand away with strength that Stiles envies.
“You did this to me,” he repeats, glaring hotly at Derek, who doesn’t even twitch.
“I did what had to be done.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” Stiles snarls, anger prickling up the back of his neck. “I never asked for this.”
“You think I wanted to turn you?” Derek asks.
“Well, obviously, otherwise you would have let me die as a human, which, FYI, is what you should have done. I’ve never even wanted to be a werewolf. Why would I want to be a vampire?”
“You think we wanted you to die, huh? You think Scott wouldn’t do everything he could to keep you alive? What if you were in his place? You’d let him bleed out?”
Stiles folds his arms because it might be the truth, but it doesn’t make anything right.
“Well, I guess Scott and I have more in common now. We were both turned against our will by members of the Hale family.”
Derek sets his jaw and mimics Stiles’ stance with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What about your dad? You think he would have wanted Scott to show up on his doorstep to tell him the news? How do you think he’d feel if he lost you too?”
It’s a seriously low blow and Stiles lunges before he can even stop to think about it. He gets a hand around Derek’s throat and digs his nails in, trying to overbalance him. Derek seems to anticipate it because he grabs Stiles’ forearm and twists it away sharply, jarring Stiles’ shoulder.
“You think guilt tripping me will make this okay?” Stiles spits around his teeth. “My dad deals with enough bad guys without me becoming one of them.”
“Which is why we’re training,” Derek points out. “You’re still you, Stiles. The teeth don’t change that. Do you see Scott any differently from when he was human? He’s still Scott to you and you’re still Stiles to him.”
Stiles’ rage still simmers beneath his skin, but he takes a breath a gathers his thoughts.
“That’s not the point,” he says with a glare. “The point is that I never wanted to be this in the first place.”
“But you are now,” Derek replies, not unkindly, but it still grates. “You can’t change it, so why not embrace it.”
Stiles scoffs.
“I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of that so far. I think I took the initial reveal a whole hell of a lot better than most people would.”
“Excluding now?”
“Screw you, buddy. I thought I turned automatically. I didn’t know that you decided the rest of my life for me. Without my input. You might be able to see why I’m a little upset now.”
“Make the best with the cards you’ve been dealt,” Derek tells him, sounding like the slip of paper inside a fortune cookie and Stiles wants to punch him.
“Yeah, you’ve already said that and it’s still a load of bull. No one will ever live willingly with a vampire.”
“You’re not the strangest thing out there,” Derek says before he pauses briefly as though trying to decide whether to speak or not. “Just find someone who likes biting as much as you do.”
“And now he decides to find a sense of humour,” Stiles mumbles to himself, but Derek looks pretty serious. “Okay, well find someone else to tell knock-knock jokes to because I’m going home.”
He turns and heads for the window, shoulders feeling heavy and there’s an unsatisfied lump in his stomach, though he knows he should never have expected closure from someone like Derek. The guy’s allergic to it.
“Do you want to feed?” comes Derek’s quiet voice, just as Stiles gets a foot out onto the windowsill. He freezes because he thinks he mishears him, but now that his hearing has improved, he knows he hasn’t.
“That’s counterproductive,” Stiles points out, still crouched awkwardly. “I thought I was meant to go as long as possible between feeds.” He does, however, remember his last feeding attempt. Vividly. “Is this some part of a new positive reinforcement programme? I stop myself from maiming you and I get blood in return?”
“It could calm you.”
Doubtful, Stiles thinks because if he’s feeding from Derek tonight, he’s going for the throat.
He steps back into the room, turning to face Derek as he narrows his eyes.
“I’ve had the worst night ever,” Stiles says taking a step closer. “This is going to be on my terms.”
Derek nods, his mouth barely more than a thin line.
“Shirt off,” Stiles continues and Derek obeys without a word, pulling the worn material over his head before balling it up and tossing it to one side.
When Stiles closes the space between them and gets a hand in Derek’s hair, tilting his head to the side before letting his fang slide free, Derek tenses.
“Stiles,” he warns, but Stiles just smiles wryly.
“I thought the teeth didn’t define me, Derek. Weren’t you just saying that? You’re not a bad guy, Stiles,” Stiles mocks with his best impression of Derek’s voice. “Am I still allowed to feed?”
He breathes against Derek’s neck, watching the quick rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in the artery just below thin skin. He really wants Derek to say yes, so he can sink his teeth into the unmarred flesh. Derek nods, but it’s not good enough. Stiles tightens his grip, tugging Derek’s hair harder until he makes a quiet sound.
“Jesus, Stiles. Yes.”
Stiles is careful to avoid anything major, but it’s pure bliss when he presses his teeth down and latches onto Derek’s throat. The blood seeps into his mouth immediately and one of Derek’s hands comes up to the small of his back, holding him close. Stiles is almost positive it’s going to end up like the kitchen incident.
He hums lightly against Derek’s skin, sucking hard to get the most of what he wants. It doesn’t calm him in the least; if anything, it makes him feel antsy and awake, as though he’s pulled an all-nighter. When he shifts his mouth a little to the left and bites down again, Derek lets out a shallow breath and stumbles back a pace, hitting the edge of his mattress with a dull thump.
Stiles’ teeth slip free when Derek drops down to sit, but it takes no time at all for Stiles to slide into Derek’s lap and latch on to a new section of skin. Derek pulls him closer, hands tucking under Stiles’ thighs and dragging him forward.
Stiles is certain now that Derek was talking about himself when he told Stiles to find someone who likes biting.
There are no protests as Stiles swallows mouthful after mouthful of blood, wanting to see if the internet is correct. Derek just keeps his head tipped to one side, not fighting the hand that holds him there. Stiles really likes this submissive side of Derek.
Derek shifts beneath him, legs spreading a little wider, clearly trying to make room in his pants for something. Stiles gets the message and grinds down, circling his hips to feel Derek harden under him. He trails his mouth further along Derek’s neck, pushing his teeth into the curve of Derek’s shoulder, which makes Derek flinch.
Stiles pulls back to gauge Derek’s reaction because he’s only doing this if they’re both onboard. Derek’s pupils are blown out and his teeth are too large for his mouth, but he meets Stiles’ gaze and nods.
“Keep going,” he murmurs and Stiles is back to sucking at his skin in an instant.
There’s blood dripping over Derek’s collarbone now, but the puncture marks have already healed by the time Stiles swipes his tongue over them. He just makes new ones, a long row of them, letting them bleed before he licks it all up.
His stomach feels strangely full and he’s not sure how much he’s had, but Derek is starting to look a little pale, so he tucks his fangs away and mouths at Derek’s skin with blunter teeth. Derek rocks against him, each uneven breath blowing hotly over Stiles’ shoulder.
Stiles’ night has greatly improved.
When he pulls back, staring at the bruising he’s left behind, which fades even as he watches, he begins to feel warmth in his veins. It’s a strange sensation, like drinking hot coffee and feeling it all the way down to his stomach. He’s not going to count his chickens and all that, but he’s sure the internet might actually be right about something finally. He pushes his hips forward and it’s definitely his own boner he nudges into Derek’s stomach.
He decides to grab life by the horns then and there.
“Lie back,” he orders, pulling his fingers free from Derek’s hair.
Derek does as he’s told, lying flat and looking ready for Stiles to ruin. Stiles drags his mouth further down Derek’s chest, nipping sharply at the skin periodically and Derek’s muscles twitch under his lips each time. He almost thinks Derek’s going to buck him straight off his lap when he gets his teeth around the bud of Derek’s nipple. Derek curses loudly and Stiles just grins and does it again with the other one.
To reach lower, Stiles has to kneel awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s worth it to be able to trace his tongue around Derek’s navel before dipping it inside briefly, just to tease. Derek slides his hands above his head, tangling his fingers in the sheets and moving gently under Stiles’ mouth, rolling his hips into each touch Stiles offers. Stiles doesn’t even know who’s being rewarded anymore.
He bites the skin right above the waistband of Derek’s sweats and rubs Derek through the material, just to see if he’ll make a noise. He does. It’s low and rumbling and Stiles feels it all the way down to his toes. Derek lifts into Stiles’ palm, his eyes hooded as he tracks every move Stiles makes.
When Stiles sits up, he can’t help but appreciate the sight before him. He reaches out with one hand and drags his blunt nails over Derek’s stomach, watching the muscles quiver and jump.
“I want to fuck you,” Stiles says, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s jeans.
For a long minute Stiles thinks Derek doesn’t hear him, but then he nods and makes a noise that sounds like he clearly wants it.
“Yeah. Okay,” Derek breathes out as though that’s all he has the strength to say and Stiles’ fingers are already tugging at the tie on his sweats. He gets off the bed to pull them down Derek’s legs, letting them flop to the floor before leaning forward to press his mouth to Derek’s cock through his briefs.
Derek cants his hips up and Stiles grazes him with his teeth, dragging them purposefully along the line of him. He can’t stop himself from darting his tongue out to lick at the wet spot where Derek’s already leaking. He’s more than a little turned on by how easy it is to tease Derek, to make his arch his back and ache for it.
When Stiles finally takes pity on him and pulls his underwear down to drop it alongside the rest of his clothes, Derek spreads his legs unashamedly, everything for Stiles’ eyes only. It’s a good look for him.
“Lube?” Stiles asks, one hand rubbing up and down Derek’s thigh, and Derek gestures to the nightstand.
When Stiles finds the bottle, it’s half-empty, and Stiles is blindsided by images of Derek fingering himself. He has to take a moment to push his palm against his own cock because it’s so hard that it’s starting to hurt.
“Feet up,” Stiles instructs and Derek doesn’t hesitate before following the order. He digs his heels into the mattress and lets his knees fall apart, giving Stiles all the space he needs.
When he slicks his fingers and tosses the lube aside, it’s almost too easy to circle a finger around Derek’s entrance to draw more noises from him. It’s all nonsense, just mumbled syllables, but it’s all for Stiles and that’s what matters. He slips the first finger inside and crooks it, watching as Derek falls apart below him. His face is still a mess of sharp lines, but they seem softer when Derek starts telling Stiles to hurry up.
Just because he can, Stiles takes his time, stretching Derek out with two then three fingers, noticing every twitch of Derek’s thighs and knowing it happens every time Stiles changes the angle. He could do it all day, just spent a lazy afternoon unhurriedly fucking Derek with his fingers to watch him give in and come all over his stomach completely untouched.
For now, he knows Derek’s ready and not just because Derek has spent the last eight minutes telling Stiles so. Stiles is finally going to end his misery because Derek’s cock is reddened and looks sore, which he’ll take full responsibility for.
He pulls his fingers free and wipes them on the sheets, grabbing the lube again before pausing.
“I’m dead, so I’m sure I can’t spread anything, but if it makes you more comfortable I’ll wear a condom.”
Derek shakes his head.
“No. Like that.”
Stiles unbuttons and unzips his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down only enough to free his cock. Derek doesn’t even try to hide that he’s staring and Stiles takes the time to slick himself, circling a thumb around the head and watching Derek’s eyes follow the moment.
“C’mere,” Stiles says eventually, grabbing Derek by the ankles and tugging. His supernatural strength lets him drag Derek into the position he wants him at the edge of the mattress. With his hips hanging over, legs dangling awkwardly either side of Stiles’ body, Stiles grabs Derek behind the knees and pushes, folding him slightly and letting him rest his calves on Stiles’ shoulders. Derek doesn’t seem to mind the manhandling and it turns Stiles on to know that he’s getting away with it when he normally wouldn’t.
He takes one hand off to line himself up and then he leans his weight forward, slipping slowly inside Derek. It’s the heat that hits him first, takes his breath away as the tip of his cock slides into the welcoming warmth easily. Derek’s breathing turns uneven and his heartbeat even more so, but he’s radiating satisfaction and when Stiles meets his eyes, he nods for Stiles to continue.
Stiles bottoms out and has to pause to keep himself from coming too quickly. Derek, thankfully, doesn’t seem in any better condition because his cock leaks a thick drop of precome that slides into the hollow of his hip and makes Stiles want to lick it up. Stiles turns his face to the side and trails his mouth along Derek’s lower leg, flicking his tongue over his knee and loving the way Derek squeezes around him in response.
“You want me to move?” Stiles asks when he draws away and Derek frowns.
Instead of answering, Derek slides a leg free from Stiles’ shoulder, curls it around the small of Stiles’ back, and pulls him forward, deeper. Stiles doesn’t need to be told twice.
His thrusts start out slow and even, still giving Derek time to adjust before Derek makes an impatient noise and Stiles’ hips falter. When he draws out and slams back in with intent, Derek seems to go boneless and Stiles has to hold his legs up to keep them from falling down. He uses his grip to add force behind each twitch of his hips and it sounds suspiciously as though Derek rips a hole in his sheets where his hands are still tangled above his head.
“This good?” Stiles asks with a smirk, attempting to knock the breath straight out of Derek. He spreads Derek’s legs further apart, fucking into him with an unsteady rhythm just to keep him alert.
“Stiles,” Derek growls, lashing an arm out and catching Stiles behind the head.
Derek obviously doesn’t seem to care that he’s bent in half awkwardly because he drags Stiles down until Stiles has to let go of one of Derek’s thighs to throw a hand out to stop himself from falling forward completely. When Derek kisses him, it’s messy and uncoordinated, but Derek licks between his lips and repeats Stiles’ name as he arches up.
Stiles lets his fangs drop and catches the delicate skin of Derek’s mouth, smearing blood between them, but Derek just makes a hollow noise, bucks upwards, and comes across his own stomach and part of Stiles’ hoodie. It’s not what Stiles expects, it’s even better.
He laps at the blood and circles his hips, softening his thrusts into long, deep movements because he’s so close he can almost taste it. All it takes is Derek latching onto Stiles’ bottom lip with sharp teeth in return to get him there. He shoves forward as far as he can go and comes hard enough that it makes one thigh cramp painfully.
He’s pretty sure there’s no actual come involved and when he pulls out after a long moment, he finds it’s true because the only mess between Derek’s thighs is that from the lube earlier. He can’t help but run his thumb over Derek’s entrance gently, feeling where he’s soft and open and still suffering from aftershocks. Derek bats his hand away before he can do anything more and Stiles finds he doesn’t care because all he wants is to sleep forever.
Derek’s finally right about being calm, but for an entirely different reason.
Carefully, Stiles lets Derek’s legs go, watching as Derek tries to catch his breath subtly. It’s not working in his favour, but Stiles pats his thigh and moves around the bed to grab a handful of tissues. He cleans Derek up the best he can before walking into the ensuite to throw the mess in the trash, tuck himself back into his pants, and wash his hands.
Without a reflection, Stiles can’t tell what he looks like, but his face feels flushed from exertion and his lip is still in the process of healing. He probably looks exhausted and in need of a good sleep, which is what he plans on doing. He just doesn’t know what the Derek Hale Post-Sex Etiquette is. Does he try to sneak into his bed, or should he just go straight back home?
He leaves the bathroom, still undecided, but it seems that Derek’s taken the liberty of choosing instead.
Derek is tucked up under the sheets with his back to Stiles, but the other side of the bed has clearly been left free for him. The corner of the blanket is even folded down in invitation.
Stiles isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He undresses and slips into bed, shuffling closer for a bit more of Derek’s warmth. Derek grunts, mumbles something about ice cold feet along with a few choice adjectives about vampires, before settling back down.
“I’m still a little angry,” Stiles mutters quietly against Derek’s shoulder because sex doesn’t exactly fix anything. It just postpones things a little while longer.
“I’m still not going to apologise for saving your life,” Derek retorts, sounding far more awake than he did a few seconds ago.
Stiles huffs softly at the fact that at least they’ve got the whole unstoppable force meets an immovable object thing going for them again.
“Just don’t steal the sheets,” is all Stiles says, finally getting comfortable and shutting his eyes.
Derek shifts and it seems far too accidental to actually be so as their legs tangle together, but Stiles doesn’t pull away.
*
Stiles wakes to the noise of birds, which isn’t all that different from a regular morning, except they seem a thousand times louder now. He blinks against the bright light flooding into the room and lifts his head from where it’s pillowed by Derek’s bicep. The curtains are wide open which is obviously part of the problem, but the rest of it is because they apparently never got around to shutting the window the night before. As it is, there’s a row of sparrows perched along the telephone wire that connects to the house just above Derek’s room. They’re all singing happily and Stiles feels a little bit like Cinderella. Except that part of him wants to kill them all.
He grumbles quietly and flops back into Derek’s space, knowing he won’t be able to get back to sleep. When Derek shifts behind him, he briefly feels guilty for waking him, but then Derek sinks his blunt teeth into Stiles’ shoulder just hard enough to make the skin ache.
“Ow,” Stiles complains, trying to turn his face so he can reciprocate with the delicate skin of Derek’s arm, but Derek rolls over, taking most of the sheet with him. “What was that for?”
“Isaac’s making coffee downstairs,” is all Derek mumbles even though Stiles can smell it himself.
“Get me a cup too when you’re down there then,” Stiles retorts, but coffee really does sound like a good idea.
Derek turns back over and frowns at him, which doesn’t work at all because he just looks sleep rumpled and soft. Stiles tries his best to glare at him in return, but ends up laughing and leaning forwards to press a kiss to Derek’s downturned lips.
“Just so you know, I’m only going downstairs because that smells amazing. You better be grateful if I decide to bring you some.”
Derek grunts as though he doesn’t care, but rubs at Stiles’ hip with a warm palm. Stiles grins and slips out of bed, grabbing Derek’s sweats from the floor because they’re the closest thing available and he ties the drawstring as he leaves the room.
When Stiles stumbles into the kitchen, he finds Isaac slouched over the table, a mug of coffee that seems untouched in front of him.
“Morning,” Stiles says, grabbing two cups from the cupboard before moving to the coffee machine and filling them up. He adds creamer to both and turns to see Isaac hasn’t moved at all. “Everything alright?”
“Next time you get into an argument with Derek and decide to have make-up sex two minutes later, do it at your own house.”
“Oh god,” Stiles mumbles before he flees.
He really wants to laugh, but waits until he’s halfway up the stairs to let it out, embarrassment burning his face.
“I think we broke Isaac,” Stiles says, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot. He watches Derek as he rubs at his face and sits up, looking suspiciously like he might have fallen back asleep for the five minutes Stiles was gone. He takes the coffee Stiles offers up and begins sipping at it slowly.
“He should be glad we didn’t use his bed,” Derek replies, voice a little louder than normal, obviously for Isaac’s benefit.
There’s a bang from downstairs that’s probably the front door closing behind Isaac as he leaves and Stiles hides his smile in his mug.
“If he’s gone, does that mean we can start round two?”
“Finish your coffee,” Derek says and Stiles is almost sure he’s not imagining the fact that it sounds distinctly like a request.
« PART ONE