"You don't have to do this." Derek said, standing aside to let Stiles in. The younger man, though thankfully no longer a teenager, glanced over the familiar walls with a smile. Derek's apartment was about a thousand times more comfortable and cleanly than the wreckage of the Hale house or the subway station.

"I know," he said cheerfully. "I want to."

"You think you want-" Stiles silenced him with a look that spoke very clearly; Really? You're really telling me I don't know what I want, again?

Derek sighed. "Look, all I'm saying is, it's not life or death. I've been in Heat before and I did it on my own. You don't need to put yourself at risk."

"I'm not," Stiles shrugged off his backpack onto the couch, "Can I leave this here or is this wild crazy destroy the house sex-"

"Stiles!" Derek caught him around the arm. "Don't joke about this. If I hurt you-"

Stiles rolled his eyes. It was an old argument of theirs, starting long before they even got together and likely never to end. "You're not going to hurt me, Derek. You love me. I love you. Everything'll be fine."

Derek pulled him closer, breathing hard into his neck. "I don't want to… push you… into anything…"

"I want this," Stiles whispered, shivering against him, "I want you."

He let out a low groan that gradually changed into a chuckle. He couldn't argue with Stiles. Not like this. "Holy Shit," Stiles gasped as Derek pushed up against him, "Is this it? Is it starting?"

"Yes." Derek moaned. "This is how it starts… you might still have time to-" he stopped when Stiles pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely.

"Not. Going. Anywhere," he growled a very convincing impression of a werewolf.

"I could bite you…" Derek warned desperately. He could feel the wolf rising within him, more wild and intense than any full moon he could remember. The careful control he'd built up over the past twenty eight years was draining fast. In a minute, he wouldn't be able to give Stiles any more chances. Maybe the threat of the bite Stiles had so adamantly rejected in the past would do the trick and Derek could lock himself away without worrying about killing his mate.

No such luck.

"You won't." Stiles whispered, pushing up against him. "You told me you wouldn't so you won't."

"I won't be in control…" Derek murmured.

It was all he could do to keep his voice level. Stiles wasn't helping; he leaned forward and nipped Derek's ear, whispering fiercely, "I trust you."

Mistake…Derek thought incoherently, pushing his mate against the wall. The Heat consumed him now, both human and wolf were powerless against it. All Derek could do now was try to hang on and keep Stiles as undamaged as possible.

When Derek woke up, it took him a moment to remember where he was. He'd dreamed of running, in full wolf form, through the preserve. He'd had similar dreams before, always running, always as a wolf. Usually it was at night thought and he was usually being chased, running from hunters or flames or just fear. This dream was different. It wasn't a quest, he wasn't looking for or trying to escape anything; he just ran with the sun light peeking through the trees and the cool wind on his back.

Stiles had his arm on Derek's spine.

The boy was alive. He was alive and human. Derek could smell his humanity; for all that it was drenched in Derek's scent. Bruises darkened on his arms and there scars across his chest but at least they were shallow, and he was breathing normally. He was alive.

Derek sniffed, glancing around his ruined bedroom. They appeared to have mated on every conceivable surface except the bed itself. Derek winced at the books and papers strewn on the floor, the pictures that had fallen off their hooks. Derek's futon appeared to have made it through relatively undamaged. He vaguely remembered slamming against the side and falling to the floor with Stiles' tangled around him. His mate had pulled a sheet down after them. He'd covered them after Derek fell asleep.

So he probably doesn't hate me, Derek thought, Stiles wouldn't stay if he hated him which meant he must have forgiven Derek for whatever trauma he inflicted last night. Derek leaned back against the futon's edge, gently rubbing the younger man's hair.

Stiles opened one eye and smiled weakly. "You're awake," he said, his voice cracked and dry.

"How do you feel?" pleasedon'thatemepleasedon'thatemepleasedon'thateme.

Stiles rolled on to his back, wincing and grinning at the same time, "Like I got hit by a bus! Best bus ever mind you but still- holy shit!"

He was happy, bruised and scarred but happy. Derek could hardly believe it, "So I didn't- you're not- Stiles, did I hurt you?"

"Hurt me? Derek, what are you-" his eyes widened in sudden comprehension, "What?! No! God, Derek! Totally consensual! How many times do I have to tell you to fuck me before you believe I want to?"

Derek stared down at the floor. "You didn't know what you were getting into, you could have changed your mind," he said. "I wasn't in control; I wouldn't have stopped if you told me."

"Well I didn't change my mind," Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek's chest and pulling himself up, "and, for the record, I think you would have stopped if I told you to."

"Not how Heat works," Derek said, stroking Stiles' hairline with the curve of his thumb.

"You really don't remember?" Stiles stared at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I mean- it was rough sex, don't get me wrong," Stiles began, "like really rough sex. I think you're gonna need to buy some new rugs and maybe another lamp, by the way. We banged pretty much everywhere and you didn't really say much but you were- I don't know, nice about it?"

"What?" There was nothing nice about Heat. It was rage and sex and total loss of control.

Stiles blushed slightly. "You took care of me, Derek. Like, made sure I had enough lube and, hell you went down on me once or twice. I don't think you'd have done that if it was just about taking what you wanted. You'd have stopped if I asked you too. You might've exploded from sheer sexual frustration but you'd have stopped."

Derek pulled him in closer, kissing him gently on the forehead. He could smell blood and sweat and a little bit of cum but above all it was Stiles; his mate, his lover who wanted to be there with him. Maybe it was different for mates. His parents had always told him it would work out with the right person but Derek had always assumed that person would be a werewolf, able to handle Heat and give as good as she got. Stiles had been so adamant about staying human and Derek had agreed. He couldn't ever deny Stiles much of anything and he'd never wanted to be this boy's alpha. In his heart of hearts, Derek wanted Stiles to always have a way out, if he ever wanted a normal life.

"I was gonna make pancakes," Stiles murmured into Derek's chest. "You just sort of collapsed on top of me and after that, I got kind of tired."

"Sorry," Derek said.

"Should be," he yawned, "Super rude, falling asleep right after sex. Awful person. You should make it up to me with pancakes… and bacon, a lot of bacon."

"You sound like you're about to pass out," he said.

"Maybe," he whispered, "You should go get pancakes and bring 'em back here while I sleep."

"Okay," Derek lifted him gently onto the futon. Stiles stretched out beneath the covers, smiling at Derek through half closed eyes. Derek watched him as he dressed. Stiles was asleep before he left the room.

So, yeah, I wanted to write porn and then it just got super fluffy because basically being in heat is just a lot of really rough sex and they were at it for the better part of a day and Derek didn't remember any of it anyway and I've got other shit to do.

Reviews are appreciated.