Hello everybody, I would like to say the story that I publish are not written by me.
My account only give a stage for stories I read and thought it would be more comfortable to read them hear at fanfiction.
The story is called:Walking the Path of Intimacy
By:Moit
From: Archive Of Our Own (or for short: ao3)
{ /works/686727/chapters/1260582}
Summery: A supposedly routine migraine leads Stiles to discover that he's pregnant with Derek's child, a situation he did not know was possible. Now he's got to tell the rest of his pack (not to mention his father) but how will they react? How will Derek take the news?
Featuring pregnant!Stiles with weird food cravings and a pack that is trying their best to accommodate their Alpha's mate.
Credits are saved for: Moit
Stomping into the house, Stiles ignored the assembly of the pack in the living room and headed straight up the stairs. The group glanced at one another.
Derek stood from his chair and followed, surprised to see Stiles hadn't bothered to crawl under the blankets, or even remove his shoes. He was curled on top of the comforter, one hand wrapped protectively around his head. Derek lowered himself gently around the boy's body. He worked his face into the juncture between Stiles' cheek and his shoulder, scenting him deeply and exhaling with a pleased rumble.
"What's wrong?"
"Headache," came the clipped reply. He never said "migraine." It was always "headache." Like with his panic attacks, he had a tendency to downplay his aches. He never wanted anyone to know he was in pain, nor did he want to admit to it. One did not have aches and pains at the age of 21, certainly not when nearly all your friends were werewolves who could heal almost anything short of a severed limb. That also negated Derek taking the pain away, because it would only emphasize how fragile and human Stiles was.
"Where's your meds?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the skin of Stiles' neck.
"Can't find them," the boy sighed. His tone was strained, which meant the pain was increasing. With a gentle squeeze to his boyfriend's arm, Derek pulled himself away. He retrieved the spare pill bottle from behind the photograph of himself and Laura on the dresser. It remained hidden for times like this when the other one went missing. He shook out one pill and set the bottle carefully back in its place with a fond smile at his deceased sister's image. Losing his last remaining family member did not get easier over the years; the pain just became more manageable.
Derek filled a glass with water in the bathroom. "Here, I found you one," he said softly, holding out the pill and the glass.
Stiles squinted up at him. He leveraged himself onto one elbow to take the medicine, and then lay back down.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
Kicking his shoes onto the floor, Stiles crawled under the comforter. "Normally I would say yes, but considering you're a big giant werewolf blanket of heat, I'm going to say no. If I get any hotter, I'm going to throw up."
Derek neglected to point out that getting in bed was likely to increase his body temperature. "Okay," he said and leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead. "If you need anything, just let me know."
That night it was Isaac's turn to cook, and not even the smell of burgers and curly fries was enough to rouse Stiles from sleep. As the rest of the pack sat down to eat, Derek ventured back upstairs. The boy was sprawled across the bed, his face buried between the pillows, as if seeking out the presence of his usual companion while he slept. He opened his eyes when the bed dipped.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Are you ready for something to eat?"
Stiles rolled onto his back and smacked his lips. "What time is it?"
"About five-fifteen. You've been asleep for a little over two hours. How's your head?"
"Still muggy, but I can probably get up for a little while." He took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. "Did Isaac make curly fries?"
Derek's lips quirked into a rare smile. "I made sure the rest of the pack saved enough for you."
With a noise of acknowledgement, the boy dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his favorite red hoodie. It had earned him many 'little red' jokes over the years, but he couldn't help that it was his favorite, not to mention how soft it was from countless washings.
Downstairs, Stiles helped himself to a handful of curly fries.
"Is that all you're eating?" Erica asked as he popped one in his mouth.
"Maybe." He shrugged noncommittally. "Depends on how I feel when I finish these."
"How's your head?" Allison asked. Really, the girl was too nice for her own good. Other than the fact that she was a bow-wielding daughter of a werewolf hunter. Not to mention that time she shot Boyd, Erica, and Isaac with said bow. Such is the dynamic of the Hale pack.
Stiles snatched up several fries and smiled around them as if to emphasize that he was fine. "It still hurts. Just gonna eat and go back to bed," he said through his mouthful.
The soft chatter gradually increased around the table, although Stiles remained uncharacteristically silent. Derek gave him a few meaningful looks, but he warded him off with a shake of his head.
Suddenly, Stiles dropped the curly fry in his hand and jumped up from the table like his ass was on fire. Even the humans at the table could clearly hear him retching in the bathroom.
"Well, I'm done," Jackson said, pushing his plate away in disgust.
"Don't blame Isaac's food," Lydia chastised. "Migraines commonly cause nausea and vomiting."
"He has smelled funny lately," Scott offered, meeting the eyes of the other werewolves.
"He's fine," Derek said with a finality that ended the conversation. Of course he noticed the change in Stiles' scent; it was the same, but sharper . . . warmer. It seemed familiar, but the answer lurked at the edge of the werewolf's memory, like a dream from which he'd just woken. He and any of his wolves could smell sickness, so a non-sick change in scent was no cause for worry just yet.
The toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened. Stiles didn't even bother coming back into the dining room; he just headed back upstairs.
The next few weeks passed in a blur of headaches and nausea. Half the time Stiles would throw up after eating. Sometimes he threw up for no reason. Oddly enough, he seemed to be gaining weight, rather than losing it. Even extensive Internet research provided no answers. WebMD gave him everything from migraines and sinusitis to nearsightedness and carbon monoxide poisoning. Of course, if he was suffering from any of those ailments (or a brain aneurysm, as suggest by Google) he was fairly confident one of the werewolves would tell him because there was no way they couldn't smell that. Even dogs could be trained to smell cancerous cells.
With no other options, he turned to his digital copy of the bestiary. Whatever was affecting him had to be supernatural. Most of the compendium was information about creatures he hoped never to face in real life. His heart skipped a beat when he turned to the section on werewolves. He hadn't paid much attention to that section initially, hadn't really needed to in the wake of the Jackson-as-Kanima attacks. As it turned out, reading this chapter would have been incredibly useful when he started a relationship with an Alpha. Then again, he also expected that Derek would have filled him in on these things. So much for not having secrets in the pack. His eyes nearly crossed at the words "mate," "bond," and "pregnancy." He was practically seeing red as all the pieces fell into place.
Stiles closed his computer with a snap. He felt the anger swelling in his chest, pushing out the feelings of worry, fear, and anxiety. He sat in the bedroom and stewed over his anger for the entire two hours it took Derek to return home. Thankfully, the rest of the pack were either at school or work, because he did not want to involve them in what promised to be a heated argument.
Stiles thundered down the stairs. His boyfriend was pouring a glass of orange juice like he had no idea what was going on. Like he had no idea that Stiles just spent the last two hours freaking out to the point of nearly driving himself to the ER to get sedated.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles growled.
Derek lowered the cup from his mouth and swallowed. "I'm thirsty. Why? What's wrong?" he asked, the sound of the boy's hammering heartbeat finally reaching his ears.
"Like you don't know. You really expect me to believe that? You couldn't have just told me. No, of course not. That would have been too easy. What, were you worried that I would leave or something? Well, it's a little late now. Unless that's why you didn't tell me." His eyes narrowed suspiciously and his lips curled into a snarl.
"Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about your freaky fucking Alpha werewolf sperm impregnating me! You knocked me up, you asshole!" He shook his head. "God, my dad is going to fucking kill me. Well, first he's going to kill me, then he's going to kill you."
Instead of confirming the accusations, however, Derek's face was a mask of confusion. "You're not lying," he said, his eyebrows drawing together.
"Of course I'm not lying, you . . . you . . . buttplug! You fucking werewolf-knot-in-your-dick-having buttplug! Why would I make this up?" He huffed out a breath with the force of his frustration.
Derek was quiet for a long moment with that preternatural stillness, just staring at Stiles so intensely it almost seemed like he'd stopped breathing. "That's why you smell different," he said suddenly, so softly the boy almost didn't hear him.
"Well . . . yeah," Stiles said, gesturing erratically with one hand and then dropping it to his side.
"My dad told me this could happen between a male Alpha and his male mate, but that was so long ago. And it's so rare." Derek walked around the kitchen island so he could lay his hands gently on Stiles' waist. "You're pregnant."
"Looks like it."
"I'm the father."
Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That better not be a question. I'm not ending up on some werewolf version of Maury Povich just to have him say 'Derek Hale, you are the father.' My life is weird enough without you denying the paternity of the freaky werewolf baby you put in my body."
"Stiles!" Derek's voice rose in effort to stop him from rambling. "I'm not . . . I'm just surprised. I didn't—I'd forgotten this was even possible."
"Well, you've got a step up from me there, Alpha Wolf." He glanced down and then back up at intense blue eyes. "How is it going to come out?" he asked, because that seemed to be the only question of which he was currently capable.
"Deaton will probably perform a cesarean," Derek said, sliding his hands together behind Stiles' waist to pull him closer. He snuffled at the skin behind his mate's ear, scenting him deeply. "Now that I know why you smell different, it's really turning me on."
"Seriously?" Stiles lifted his head. "I find out I'm pregnant, and your response is to try to impregnate me further? I don't know what's—"
Derek cut him off by pressing their mouths together. Stiles moaned into the kiss. Admittedly, kissing was never a bad idea, and he'd read somewhere that pregnancy makes women (and himself, apparently) more aroused in early stages.
He allowed Derek to guide his legs around the werewolf's hips and carry him up the stairs. The novelty of his ability to lift Stiles' 140-pound not-exactly-light body would probably never wear off. Then again, his weight was going to increase significantly over the next few months. Stiles groaned, despite the wonderful things Derek's mouth was currently doing to his neck.
"What's wrong?" Derek asked, as he gently lowered Stiles to the bed.
"I'm going to get fat," the boy sighed, feeling as ridiculous as he sounded.
"No, you're not," Derek insisted, pushing Stiles' t-shirt up his chest. "You're growing with our child. You're going to be so full of life, you'll be bursting with it." His voice had gone low with desire and wolf. His large hands covered Stiles' as-yet still flat belly.
"That's a very colorful description of what's going to happen to my body in the next nine months and in no way is it creepy. Thank you for that," Stiles said sarcastically. "You really know how to reassure a guy."
Derek pressed the steel-like hardness of his erection into Stiles' hip by way of reply.
"This, uh, really turns you on, doesn't it?"
Derek looked up at him, his eyes pure alpha-red. The sight sent a jolt straight to his mate's cock.
"I'll take that as a yes, then."
Derek growled, a low, throaty sound like a lupine signal of pleasure. Stiles fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans. For all his anger earlier, there was nothing more enticing than his Alpha kneeling over him growling—signaling—that he wanted sex.
Stiles threw his jeans over the side of the bed and shimmied out of his t-shirt and button-down as quickly as possible. Derek didn't even bother getting undressed; he just pulled his half-hard cock out of his fly and began stroking it, making Stiles salivate at the sight. He desperately wanted to get his mouth on that, but Derek didn't seem inclined to wait. He pressed his cock between the cheeks of his boyfriend's ass, making him jump in surprise.
"Whoa, big boy! Lube. Still human, remember?"
"Sorry," Derek grumbled, pulling away. Instantly, his eyes faded and his face lost its wolf characteristics. He reached for the tube on the nightstand.
"You didn't need to stop," Stiles admonished, taking the tube from Derek's hand. He slicked his fingers and reached under himself as the werewolf watched with keen eyes that slowly began to glow red again. "That's it," the boy sighed, sliding another finger in alongside the first, although he wasn't sure to whom he was talking. Derek leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to his open mouth. Stiles mewled into the kiss, allowing his mate to swallow his moan of pleasure.
"Are you ready?" Derek asked, fisting his own cock.
"Impatient much?" Stiles said, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheet. His body was practically thrumming with anticipation. "Yeah, I'm ready."
Derek lined up and pressed forward. He didn't stop until he bottomed out, sending frissons of painful pleasure throughout Stiles' entire body. The boy pulled him down for another kiss, sucking at Derek's face like he wanted to be devoured.
"I have to move," Derek panted, pulling away. He lifted himself up so that his arms supported his weight. He pulled out and pushed back in smoothly, earning a low keening noise. They built up a steady rhythm; he dropped to his elbows as the pressure increased, and Stiles clawed at his back, desperately seeking release. He found it as Derek's knot slipped inside his body, forcing the head of Derek's cock against his prostate. He came with a choked moan, writhing and mewling on the werewolf's cock like a cat in heat.
Derek gave a few more aborted thrusts, dropping his head to Stiles' shoulder and biting down firmly on his collarbone as he filled his mate's body with warm release. He rumbled softly when Stiles ran his fingertips down the back of his sweaty t-shirt as they both struggled to catch their breath.
"I think I'm starting to cramp," Stiles grunted, unlocking his ankles and dropping his feet to the bed.
Lifting himself up as well as he could without jerking on the place where they were tied, Derek helped Stiles fold one long leg to his chest so he could roll onto his side with Derek spooned up tightly behind him. Derek's fingers played up and down the nude line of his mate's body. His hand slid over Stiles' hip, coming to rest low on his belly, just above the base of his sated cock.
"How is it," Stiles began, threading their fingers together, "that despite the fact that you have a wolf knot, you were completely unaware said knot could impregnate me?" The anger had long since faded, leaving behind anxiety and a sliver of excitement in its stead. Once he got over the initial shock, Stiles knew his father would be excited about having a grandchild when he'd initially assumed that having a bisexual son who was in a relationship with a man meant he would probably never be called "grandpa." Stiles himself loved children, and he knew Derek would be a great father. It was so much scarier though, now that their child was not only a possibility, but an inevitability.
Derek snuffled along the edge of the boy's jaw, sending shivers down his spine. "My knot is something I was born with, and only an Alpha's knot can impregnate its male mate. Laura was supposed to be the Alpha, remember?"
Stiles could hear the hitch in Derek's breath, and for a moment, he worried this was the wrong time to bring up the subject. Open mouth, insert foot, as usual, Stilinski.
"Calm down," Derek said, rubbing their joined hands over Stiles' bare chest. "All I'm trying to say is that my parents and Laura died before they could really tell me any of this. My dad only mentioned it once, briefly. You have to remember, Stiles, that when I was going through puberty, nobody assumed I would ever be an Alpha, let alone mated to a man, so it wasn't exactly relevant information."
Stiles could still hear the frustration in Derek's voice. "I'm sorry if I upset you." He drew their hands up to his face, untangled them, and rubbed his cheek into Derek's palm. It was a gesture that calmed both of them. Derek got to brush his scent further into Stiles' skin, reassuring him with the touch.