God, number three already? I'm on a roll. )

This one's a little citrusy, and is for Juls16 (I hope you like it!), who recommended the song. I couldn't really think of a storyline that would follow the song all that closely, but this is what I ended up with it.

Disclaimer: THIS SHIT AIN'T MINE. The song belongs to Nicki Minaj and her sexyfine self.

Super Bass - Nicki Minaj

Heartbeats had always been a big thing between them.

Like how they would be driving in Derek's car, and Derek would tap his fingers against the steering wheel. Not to the beat of the song playing, but to steady thumpthump of Stiles' heart.

Or like the time Derek had stalked around the outside of the entire school, sifting through a thousand different heartbeats, picking out a few that he'd recognized: Scott's, which…why was his heart beating so fast? Oh…yeah, there was Allison's consistent pulse right next to him. That little strutting girl—what was her name?—was beating away in the locker room with Jackson, who's heart rate was abnormally subdued. Was the guy fucking on something? And then finally—the deep throbbing he'd tasted on the boy's neck on countless occasions. Derek had listened for a few moments, just checking, clicking his tongue to the beat.

Or especially the first time Derek had pushed into that nnghsofuckingtight body, trying to catch his breath against the clenching, and kept his eyes on Stiles' face. The younger man had his eyes shut tight and lips twisted into a grimace, teeth grinding because oh fuck did it hurt.

"Stiles?" Derek had gasped, "You okay?"

The muscles in Stiles' jaw twitched as he ground out, "Mmhm. Yep. Feels great."

Derek had tried to laugh, kissed the other's eyebrow in an uncharacteristically comforting gesture, and used what was left of his self-control to hold his hips still. Stiles' eyes had finally opened and he grasped Derek's forearms simply because he needed to hold on to something.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just… I can feel your fucking heartbeat. Feels weird."

And Derek had smiled and rocked his hips.

Suffice it to say that Derek lived his life by Stiles' heartbeat. The steady beat was a reassurance; as long as it was strong enough for the wolf pick up, Stiles was alive and well. The beat was a turn on; the quickened pulse in the boy's jugular against his tongue always forced Derek lower, wanting to taste it in the vein running up the younger's cock. The beat was a tattletale; Stiles had once tried to tell Derek, "No, I don't want to have sex, I need to finish this homework," as if Derek was stupid enough to believe that one even without his advanced hearing. Derek had heard the stutter in the boy's pulse and jumped on him without another word.

No, Derek wasn't in love. The very idea made him want to roll his eyes and maybe hit somebody, because come on. Love was a basic human emotion, something Derek just didn't do. No, what he felt was something much more primal: the nonnegotiable need to protect, to own. As if Stiles had been a part of him since birth, more than second nature, no questions asked. He just needed to know the younger man as well as he knew himself.

Stiles was his, heartbeat and all. And damned if Derek would allow that to change.

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