Thanks to everyone who has continued to read my fic, and leave reviews! I love you all so much! Especially MimeMoe, for always giving great and helpful reviews. They are very ego-boosting and keep me wanting to update quickly so I can see what you'll say next. It always makes me giddy :) and, of course, Dereksgirl24, who continues to review every single chapter, and who is now a friend on Twitter! and, last but not least, a shout out to Red Beard the Pirate. I love you!

I have had a couple of people PM me about the songs I choose...The next chapter will not be named after Sea Wolf, but expect a few more from them before the fic is over. I love their songs and I am making Derek and Stiles love their songs, too :) I have a playlist soundtrack made up for this fic, but I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to share it...

I just wanted to mention that I'm sorry if Stiles is a little OOC. I hope that the fact that he is a werewolf now explains that a little. Even so, I tried to stick with the character as much as possible, even if the whole inner monologue thing isn't very Stiles-y. I must admit, I have an easier time with Derek than with any of the other characters. He is more like the kind of character I tend to write as.

Anyway, without further ado, here is chapter seven. Hope you like!

SONG: Wicked Blood - Sea Wolf

Stiles was sitting in his father's police cruiser, feet propped on the dash, devouring buckets of curly fries and trying to ignore the weird looks his dad was giving him about his eating habits. Stiles had always been a messy eater, and he had always had an astronomically high metabolism, but it had gotten even more intense the past few months. Now, instead of one bucket of curly fries, he ate three. Instead of three burgers, he ate six. And he would probably still go home and eat some cereal and chips and leftover lasagna later.

As he polished off his last bucket of fries, he looked over at his dad, who had been done with his salad and parfait for a few minutes already and was staring at him as if head grown three heads.

"What?" he mumbled, dreading the answer. His dad scoffed and shook his head.

"I know you're a growing kid, but damn, son! What's gotten into you lately? You're gonna wind up eating us out of house and home!"

Stiles chuckled and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, dislodging the crumbs from the corners of his mouth.

"Just been going through some changes recently, dad, that's all. You know, boy stuff, growing up, and all that...I need the energy..." he trailed off and heard his dad laugh.

"Yeah, I've noticed you've put on some muscle mass there, buddy. What, have you been working out, training for lacrosse and all that?"

Stiles almost laughed, too. Lacrosse was the last thing on his mind nowadays.

"Yeah, exactly, lacrosse, working out," he said, though. "And I have to eat alot to gain muscle. Sooooo..."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Stiles, but isn't it alot of protein you're supposed to be eatiing to gain muscle? Not junk food?"

Stiles shrugged, picking a piece of fry off of his lap where it had fallen in his feeding frenzy, and popped it into his mouth. "Yeah, yeah, whatever...You're just jealous because you're not allowed to eat curly fries."

His dad rolled his eyes, but didn't deny it, and Stiles smirked.

They lapsed into a semi-comfortable, semi-awkward silence. Then his dad asked him something he'd hoped he wouldn't have to hear.

"So, are there any girls at school you have your eye on? What about that Jessy girl you took out last weekend? How did that go?"

Stiles sighed. He should have known this was coming.

"It was Jenny, dad. And it didn't go well."

His dad looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for more, but Stiles avoided his gaze, hunting around for more pieces of fry that had been dropped. He found a couple on the seat between his legs and devoured them. He was still hungry, and already daydreaming about the lasagna in the fridge at home.

"Weeeell?" His dad prompted. "What went wrong? Not pretty enough for you?" he laughed and Stiles rolled his eyes. His dad had become all but obsessed with his son's love life lately. Maybe it was because he actually had one now. Stiles had been on more dates in the past few months than he would have ever dreamed possible. But none of the girls were ever right. They were too slutty, too shallow, too prudish, too stupid, too loud, too quiet, too intense...always too something. That wasn't to say that he hadn't had fun with a few of them. He was long past being a virgin now.

A few girls had even been up for sex, but it wasn't like he had to try very hard. Most of them pretended they just wanted to make out in his jeep, and one thing usually led to another. Not that he had used them or anything. In his opinion, it was more like they had been the ones to use him. He wasn't complaining, since he always had fun, but he wasn't really in a place right now that he could handle a serious relationship anyway. Especially not with a fragile human girl. And the only she wolves he knew of were taken.

His thoughts strayed to Derek and he almost laughed out loud at the connection his messed up brain had made. Derek, a werewolf-girl. He snickered. Then he noticed his dad giving him a strange look and went back over what he had asked him. Oh, yeah, what went wrong with Jenny.

"Nothing went wrong exactly, it was just- she just- I- we- we didn't click, that's all..."

Which was mostly the truth. They had fun at the movies together, went and got a burger, and then they tried to talk, but didn't seem to have much in common. Somehow they had ended up in the back of Stiles' jeep, and they spent an hour making out, then she had surprised him with a blow job. It had just kind of happened. Of course, he had helped matters along a little, with a hand under her skirt, but he hadn't been the one to urge her to go down on him. That had been entirely her decision. Then he dropped her off at her house, and ever since then she had been avoiding him at school. He didn't know why. Didn't know if he had done something wrong or what. He thought maybe she was embarassed at herself, and felt a little bad about it, but whatever, she was the one who had initiated everything in the fisrt place, the one who had kissed him first, and the one who had nudged his hand under her shirt and skirt.

"So, not the girl for you, then?" his dad asked carefully. Stiles gave him a look.

"Definitely not." His dad laughed.

Then a call came in on the radio. Stiles reached for it out of habit, as always, and his dad slapped his hand away.

"Are you the Sherriff, huh? I didn't think so." He was mock-glaring at Stiles and fighting a smirk as he grabbed the radio, inquiring as to what the problem was. Convenience store robbery, nothing too exciting. Stiles sighed.

"I'll see you at home later, 'kay dad?" he asked, tossing his trash from dinner on the floor and opening the door. The sherriff glanced at the mess on his floor and sighed, then looked at Stiles curiously.

"Usually you're dyng to come on a ride-along. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just tired. Homework. Hungry. Wanna relax. Nothing special."

His dad scowled.

"Hungry? You just ate-"

"I know, I know! Tell me about it! I'll see you later. Love you dad. Be careful!" He shut the door before his dad could say anything else, making his way back to his own car, which was parked behind the burger joint the cruiser was sitting in front of.

Just as he opened the door and climbed in, his phone rang. He rolled his eyes, thinking it was going to be his dad calling to bitch him out about eating all the food in the house again, then he glanced at the screen. Danny.

"Hello?"

"Stiles? Hey, uh, we're...done at the mall...if you still feel like giving us a ride, ya know..."

"Shut up, Danny, I already told you I'd give you a ride. I'll be there in a few. Be waiting outside." He pressed the end button and tossed his phone on the passenger's seat.

It took him less than five minutes to get to the mall, and Danny and Bryan were waiting outside like he'd told them to, sitting on a bench near the mall entrance. He pulled up to the curb, but they were talking and didn't notice him, so he beeped his horn and opened the passneger door, snatching his phone off the seat and sticking it in the compartment underneath the stereo. He was still hoping Derek would call, even though it had been almost two hours since he'd left the message.

Danny jerked his head up at the honking horn, then nudged his brother, and the two of them made their way to the jeep and got in. Danny kept looking at Stiles weirdly, and it was getting on his nerves again. He didn't say anything, and tried not to growl. Danny seemed nervous.

He drove to Danny's house in silence. There was no conversation. Just the music. Another Sea Wolf song. He seemed to be playing them alot lately. This one was called 'Wicked Blood'.

As he pulled up to Danny's house and parked, leaving the motor running, Bryan scrambled out of the car, calling out a swift farewell over his shoulder. Stiles waved vaguely at the retreating back. Danny just sat there, staring at him. He was really tired of that look.

"Will you stop fucking looking at me like that? Geez!"

Danny looked away quickly, and Stiles could smell the faint trace of fear in the air. He didn't know how much Danny had put together in his head, but that trace of fear let him know enough.

It was a Friday night. The pack would be meeting tomorrow, and this shit with Danny would be discussed then. Until then, he had to make sure Danny kept his mouth shut about everything he thought he knew. He leaned in close, and Danny backed away, back hitting the door of the jeep.

"Don't forget what I told you about keeping your mouth shut, Danny-boy," he smiled in a way that he knew looked slightly aggressive. "Understand?"

Danny nodded frantically, hand groping for the door handle and eyes locked on Stiles. Stiles leaned over him and opened it for him, since he seemed to be having so much trouble.

"See you at school on Tuseday...maybe before that, depending on what's decided. Remember what I told you..."

Danny nodded again and leapt from the jeep, slamming the door hard in his eagerness to escape.

"Hey! Easy on my baby!" Stiles barked, but Danny didn't even turn around, fleeing into the house. Stiles could hear the lock click softly into place, and he laughed to himself as he sped away.

I I I I I I I I I I I I I

Derek lay in his bed, eyes closed but wide awake. He was trying his best to drift to sleep, but couldn't do it with the smell of Stiles all around him. Damn kid. Always snooping and sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

The smell was intoxicating and delicious, even when it was just his normal scent, not laced with arousal. Derek's hand twitched with the urge to stroke down his body and encircle his cock in a hard grip. It had been weeks since he had jacked off to the thought of Stiles, and he had told himself he wasn't going to do it any more. Beyond the brief satisfaction, it didn't help anything, it only made him want the kid more.

So he resisted his urge, curling his hand into a tight fist, and shifted positions, trying to get more comfortable in the hopes that it would help him get to sleep. But his new position just buried his face in the blanket. The blanket that smelled like Stiles the most. He groaned and rolled back over onto his back. He was beginning to see that his plans for sleep were not going to happen any time soon. Even with the window open, the scent was unbearably thick.

He opened his eyes and sighed deeply. Maybe if he called him, talked to him... It didn't have to be anything personal, it could just be about the Danny-situation. He could handle that. Couldn't he? Maybe it would help ease his mind, ease his need...

He sat up and grabbed his phone off the top of the dresser, where he had tossed it earlier. Flipping it open, he stared at the blank blue screen for a moment, considering whether or not it was a good idea. Then he said, "fuck it", dialing a number he knew so well that he didn't need to check his contacts to find it.

I I I I I I I I I I I I I

Stiles was just pulling up into his driveway when his phone started vibrating furiously, a moment before "Animals', by Nickelback, rang through his car. He snatched his phone from it's place in the compartment under the stereo. He knew that ring. That stupid ring that Scott had programmed into his phone for when Derek called. The dumb song he hadn't gotten around to changing yet. He knew it, he just didn't think he'd be hearing it tonight.

Glancing at the screen- just to make sure- he took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello?"

As if he didn't already know who it was. There was silence on the other end, then a swift breath.

"Stiles. What's the problem?"

God his voice sounded so good, even tinny and filtered through the phone. Even gruff and all-business. He almost didn't remember what Derek was asking him about for a second. Oh, yeah, Danny. He sighed, getting annoyed and wishing this call could be about something else, anything else.

"What do you mean, 'what's the problem'? Didn't you listen to the message?" He demanded, voice snappish and hard. He heard a low rumbling growl on the other end.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Derek snarled.

Stiles winced and closed his eyes.

"Sorry. Sorry. It's just..." he sighed. "I didn't know what I was supposed to say to Danny. I don't know if I said the right thing..."

Derek took a deep breath, as if expecting the worst.

"What, EXACTLY, did you say to him?"

Stiles relayed the entire car ride, reaction for reaction and word for word, including the part about Bryan asking Danny if he liked him. He smiled when he heard Derek snicker every now and then. When he was done, Derek sighed, long and deep. Stiles tensed at the noise. He wasn't sure if it was a relieved sigh or a 'you're-in-trouble' sigh. Derek wasn't saying anything, and Stiles couldn't be patient.

"Well? Did I do good? Did I say the right thing? Are you mad?"

He heard Derek make a noise that could have been a chuckle, but that was impossible. It must have been some sort of choked-off growl.

"Yeah, Stiles. Yeah, you did good..."

Stiles beamed, elated that Derek approved, that he had done the right thing and made his Alpha proud.

"So, what are we gonna do? Are we gonna tell him?"

Derek growled.

"Jackson has been careless..." he paused, and there was a long stretch of silence. "Stiles? What do YOU think we should do?"

Stiles breath hitched, catching in his throat. Derek was actually asking his opinion.

"Ummmm. I don't think we have a choice but to tell him, honestly. I think he's already figured most of it out. You should have seen the way he was looking at me... like I was about to to eat him or something. I don't know, but I think he could keep his mouth shut. Especially if it involves Jackson...But, it's your call, of course." Stiles fell silent, waiting to see what Derek would say, anxious once more, hoping he had said what Derek wanted to hear. The other line was silent for so long that Stiles would have thought he had hung up the phone if he couldn't hear him breathing. He started twitching, squiriming in his seat, patience wearing thin. Just before he blew up, Derek spoke.

"You're sure about Danny? About him being able to keep his mouth shut?"

Stiles sighed. He didn't know if he was sure. It was just a best guess. He was hoping. He didn't want all of this to rely on what he thought, though, since it was the Alpha that should be making the final decision.

"I'm not completely sure, no. I don't know Danny that well...but I do know how much he cares about Jackson. They're like...me and Scott...before the whole werewolf-thing, anyway...if one of us were gay...and the other was a raging asshole..."

He heard Derek chuckle, and this time he was sure that's what it was.

"Anyway! The point is, they've known each other since they were kids and they're best friends. I don't think he'd betray Jackson...but you never know what a person will do when they're scared enough..."

Derek sighed, and Stiles could hear the sound of skin against skin, as if he was rubbing a hand over his face. Or maybe rubbing a hand somewhere else. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the head rest of the seat, images of Derek touching himself dancing through his mind.

"I think you're right. I don't think we have a choice. I just hope the kid knows how to keep his mouth shut. We'll talk about it with everyone else tomorrow, see what Jackson has to say for himself."

Stiles nodded in agreement, even though he knew Derek couldn't see him do it.

"So, Stiles, why did you pick him up in the first place?"

Derek's voice had a slightly hard edge to it that Stiles didn't understand.

"I-I dunno. I mean, it was cold, and he and his brother were walking-"

"So?"

Stiles scowled. If he didn't know any better, he would say Derek was jealous. But that was preposterous wasn't it? Maybe he was just mad because they wouldn't be having this problem if Stiles hadn't given Danny a ride in the first place. Now he was feeling guilty. Did Derek blame him for this? Was he angry at him?

"I'm sorry," he said, voice small and sad sounding. He hated it. He cleared his throat and and tried to make his voice sound stronger. "I didn't mean to start anything. I was just trying to help out a-a teamate." He had almost called Danny a friend. But that wasn't really right. He had never considered Danny a friend before. They had been going to the same school most of their lives, but they hardly knew anything personal about each other.

He heard a small groan fom the other end of the line. The noise sounded exasperated and maybe a wee bit guilty.

"It's not your fault, Stiles. That's not what I was trying to say, damn it.!"

Stiles coulnd't help but feel a little relieved. But, if Derek wasn't mad at him, then what...

"So...what were you trying to say, Der?"

All was silent on the other line. He could barely even hear Derek breathing any more. He smiled. That was jealousy he had detected in his Alpha's voice. Somehow, that felt like a victory. Derek had to know Stiles had been in his house earlier, and he wondered why he hadn't brought up the fact that he had been in his room. Maybe he was trying to avoid the conversation, avoid the inevitable questions about the permeating scent of blood in the small tiled room. Those questions were already forming in Stiles' mind, in his mouth, and he ached to spit them out and get the answers he was craving. But, somehow, he managed to hold back. That was a conversation for another time, another day. Tomorrow perhaps...

Derek still hadn't spoken, and Stiles smiled again, a deliciously devious plan forming in his sly little mind. He got out of the car, grabbing his back pack from the back, and went into his house. The phone was still at his ear, and the two of them were still silent, listening to each other's steady breathing. He climbed up the staircase and peeked into his dad's room, but he wasn't there. If he wasn't home now, it would probably still be a couple more hours until he was finished at work.

As he neared the door to his room, a very faint scent caught his attention. So faint he couldn't quite make it out, but very familar...

And then he opened his door, and he couldn't help the little moan that left his mouth.

"Oh, god, Der," he rumbled, an aroused growl rising in his chest. He heard the little hitch in Derek's breathing, and it felt like yet another victory. The smell of his Alpha filled his room, and after he had been having such naughty thoughts about him...it was almost too much to handle.

"What?" Derek growled, voice sounding slightly hoarse.

"Mmmm, you smell so good..." Stiles tossed his back pack on the floor next to his desk and pulled his shirt off over his head, collapsing on his bed, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. He shimmied out of his jeans and kicked them to the floor as well. He left the lights off in his room, since the moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtains was just enough light to see by.

He noticed one of his books out of place on his nightstand and smiled ruefully. Derek must have sat in his room all day reading. He could fucking kick himself for being so stupid. Derek was here in his room the whole damn time he was sitting on the steps if that old house, waiting for him. God, how dumb could one guy be?

If he had just gotten out of his car when he had come home after school. Damn it! He could just imagine the things that he and Derek could have gotten up to. Images flashed through his head and he slid a hand down his bare stomach, palming his slowly-hardening cock through his boxers. He let out a breathy sigh, slightly surprised that Derek was even still on the line, that he hadn't hung up already.

"Fuck, Derek...I wish I would have come home earlier and found you in my room...god, I want you..." he let a little groan slip out again, hand tightening around himself. He didn't miss the sound of Derek's breath changing, quickening, and he could even hear his heartbeat speed up. He smiled slightly, eyes closing as he imagined Derek there with him, imagined that it was Derek's hand instead of his own touching him.

He wondered if Derek would play along, would stay on the phone. So far all he was getting was silence and labored breathing, but that was better than straight hanging up. He wondered if he should take things further, if he should say anything more, or of he should wait for Derek to say something.

Derek spoke before he could make the decision.

"Stiles," his name was nearly a groan, and the sound of it made his own breath quicken. "What are you doing?"

He bit his lip and hummed a little in his throat. He knew what Derek meant, but decided to take it a different way.

"I'm touching myself, Derek. I'm rubbing my cock and imagining it's you doing it..." His voice was low and quiet and breathy, and he was trembling with anticipation at how Derek was going to react. He half expected him to just hang up. But then he heard a noise. It sounded like a muffled groan, and he smiled again, eyes heavy-lidded. Another victory. Derek wasn't nearly as stoic and unshakeable as he pretended to be.

"That's not what I fucking meant, and you know it, damn it!"

His tone sounded like he was trying to be stern and angry, but it wasn't working. His voice held a wild edge to it, like he was trying to keep control and not doing a very good job. Stiles decided to act as if he hadn't spoken.

"God, Derek, I'm so hard for you. Ungh...I wish you were here right now, so I could make you as hard as I am...I wanna taste your cock, Der. I want you in my mouth. Fuck, I wanna make you come, Derek..." he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he pulled his boxers down his thighs. His dick was throbbing and weeping precome, and he swirled the liquid over the head with his thumb, hissing at how good it felt.

He heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper from the other end of the phone, and it made his dick jerk as his arousal level shot up even higher, if that were possible.

"Do you want me to do that, Derek? Do you want me to suck your dick until you come down my throat? I'd swallow it all, Der, I bet you taste so fuckin' good..."

He had a vague thought in the back of his brain that maybe he should shut up, that maybe he was taking this too far...and then he heard Derek's moan, not muffled this time, and he knew he was saying just the right thing. He knew he should keep going.

"Was that a yes? I need to hear it, Derek. Tell me that's what you want, too. Oh, god, please..." he started stroking his cock rythmically, running his fingers roughly over the head, and along the underside of it where it was most sensitive, stroking under the thick ridge of flesh around the top, a needy moan breaking free. If he imagined hard enough, he could make himself believe that it was Derek doing this to him. Maybe if he heard his voice, if he heard him say how much he wanted it...

"My mouth is watering, imagining the taste of you, imagining how hot and hard you would be in my mouth...mmmm...tell me that's what you want too, c'mon..."

He was getting close now, and his pumps started to quicken, getting a little more erratic. If he could just hear Derek's voice, he knew it would push him over the edge. In his desperation and need he lost control a little. He knew his heavy-lidded eyes were probably glowing blue and gold, because he felt like the wolf was just under his skin, wanting to break free. He bit his lip hard, not realizing his mistake until a sharp canine sliced the thin skin. He licked at the blood, sucked his tembling bottom lip into his mouth, and the flavor of it somehow put him so close to the edge he felt like he was going to explode. He whimpered.

"Please, Derek, please...ungh...please..." So close, so close...

He heard a long drawn out groan from the other end of the line, and his whole body clenched at the sound, muscles trembling and jumping, hips pumping, back arching off the bed. He whimpered again, needy and breathlessly begging.

"Fuck, yes! Oh god, Stiles, yes, that's what I want, too...I want to shove my cock in your mouth and shoot my load down your throat...god...come for me, Stiles..."

And that was all it took. Stiles moaned Derek's name as he came, painting his hand and stomach and chest in streams of white, breath shuddering out as he clutched at the phone desperately with his other hand, trying to keep it from slipping out of his boneless grip.

He could hear Derek's growling, whimpering noises on the other line and knew he was pleasuring himself, too. Stiles kept talking to him, whispering filthy things, describing what he wanted to do to him, and it wasn't long before Derek was coming, too, with muffled groans. Stiles wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard Derek moan his name. It had been muffled well, though, so he wasn't entirely positve. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

As he lay there in his bed, body coming down from the incredible orgasm he hadn't known he could have from just talking on the phone, he listened to the sound of Derek's labored breathing, and he felt content. It would have been perfect if Derek was actually there with him, letting him do all the things he had described, but, well, you take what you can get. He just knew Derek was going to ruin it, though. Knew he was going to say something, or do something, or just hang up... It was the way Derek was when it came to Stiles, always running away when things got too intense, when emotions got too high, when he started to lose himself in the pleasure that Stiles offered him. Only, this time, he had actually succeeded in giving him pleasure, even if hadn't been by his own hand, exactly. This was a sure victory, one that Stiles wouldn't forget.

Who would have thought that just a little dirty talk would have Derek coming undone and giving into him? He would remember that little trick, and he would be using against his Alpha in the future, that was for sure. Stiles wasn't shy, he had no problem with dirty talk. Especially when it got him what he wanted, and what he knew Derek wanted, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

He decided to push a little, see how far he could get, and he smiled, knowing it probably wouldn't end well.

"So...Derek...you wanna come over? My window's unlocked for you, as always. I can do all those things I promised you. I'll-"

"GOODNIGHT, Stiles..."

He heard the little break as Derek ended the call, and he sighed, a wry grin spreading across his lips. He should have known better. But, really, he couldn't manage to summon up any sort of regret. He'd had to try, right? He'd have been a coward not to. And no one had ever accused Stiles of being a coward.

He pressed the end button and placed his phone on top of the stack of books on his nightstand. Reaching to the floor, he snatched the shirt he had been wearing earlier, using ot to wipe off the mess all over himself before tossing it at his hamper and missing. He tucked himself back into his boxers and sighed. Well, it was better than nothing. It was the farthest he had ever gotten with Derek, in a way. It was definetly a victory, no matter how small.

He stretched, moaning a little as his muscles unkinked and relaxed. He rolled over, pulling a pillow under his head, and yanked the throw blanket that had gotten scrunched up against the wall over his body, not bothering to climb under his sheets and comforter. He was more tired than he had thought, and wasn't in the mood for a shower tonight, so he didn't want to get his clean sheets dirty all over again. He'd take one in the morning, before he went to Derek's house. He was even more ravenously hungry than he had been before, but figured that could wait until morning as well, since his body's need for sleep seemed a bit stronger.

Licking his lips, he savored the lingering taste of blood on them as he quickly drifted into half-sleep, dreams already starting. Red glowing eyes and a hard sculpted body, growls and groans and whimpers, claws digging into skin, teeth biting flesh. Falling fully asleep, the dreams became more intense. God those were some good dreams. His favorite kind. The kind where Derek was the star.

I'm a little self-concious about this last part, here. My first go at male on male smut... let me know how I did...