A/N:

I'm pleased to say that there is a Sterek scene in this chapter, toward the end. I know some of you have been messaging in about more Sterek, so this is for you.
It was a delight to write and I hope it doesn't seem like I moved the Sterek scene in too quickly, in relation to the character development and plot. I would like to defend the scene by enunciating that Derek loses control of himself, his wolf taking over the desires. Derek will be in control in a later chapter.

Thank you so much reading! Please let me know what you think.

VVVVV

The deputies separated the teenagers which was standard procedure, and questioned them about what happened. Luckily with their super hearing, they were able to heard each other's answers and provide their own variation to the story, supporting each other's stories with comments and remarks.

Erica put on a show, crying and whimpering. It was very believable, seeming so obvious that this was a weird, unwarranted for attack on some helpless teenagers.

It was also procedure to take them to the station for the questioning and inventory the assault. They piled in the police cruisers like good little kids and rode quietly, the whole way, even Stiles.

Derek was there when they arrived. Everyone in the pack seemed to exhale at once when they saw their alpha. Derek stepped forward and Stiles was there, in his arms, hugging him close. He didn't realize he had moved forward and he didn't have an explanation for his compulsion. It felt right. He didn't care if his dad saw or what the pack thought. He needed a hug, dammit.

Derek surprisingly, didn't fight or stiffen or recoil, instead, he held him close, subtly rubbing his face over Stiles' hair, and that's when he noticed the blood. He spun Stiles and inspected the back of his head, touching his skin so gently, you wouldn't think it was Derek doing it.

"What happened?" he questioned quietly.

Stiles let Scott explain. Jackson and Boyd were both absent, both being questioned again separately from the group. Soon they would be back and the next two would be taken and questioned again. Although they had already given their statements at the scene, it was procedure, in case they remembered anything, plus all the paper work, files and forms to be signed off on. Stiles knew they would be released soon. The incident seemed so obvious and one hundred percent not there fault.

Stiles quietly explained his side of the story, especially because the huntress focused on him specifically. He recapped what she said to him and what she threatened. Derek was quietly listening, his eyes calculating. When Stiles was explaining how Mr. Vice Grip held him down while she punched him, he gently lifted Stiles' shirt up and hissed in sympathy; the was skin already turning purple and blue with bruising.

Stiles was pulled in for questioning and they also had to take pictures of his bruises. He had bruises all over his stomach from her but they also found bruising on his arms where Mr. Vice Grip was holding him down. They would probably need to take pictures tomorrow too, to see the full extent of the bruising, but luckily, no broken bones. Yay for small miracles.

Soon everyone had been questioned and they were being released to go home. Some of the deputies were going to drive the pack home, including Stiles because his dad was going to stay late to take care of all the paper work.

"I can drive Stiles home," Derek spoke up from where he leaned against the wall. His dad looked surprisingly relieved.

"Yes, thank you," his dad sighed out and added, "And could you stay with him, you know, until he get's settled? Make sure he gets cleaned up?" he sounded so hopeful. "Actually, I know I might be an over protecting father, but could you stay until I get home tonight? It might be late, but you could sleep on the couch or in the guest bedroom,"

"Dad, I don't need a babysitter," he protested.

"Yes sir," Derek replied with seriousness, completely ignoring Stiles. Derek rested his hands on Stiles' shoulders and led him toward the front doors.

"Derek," he made an annoyed sound in his throat, "come on, you don't need to treat me like a child,"

"Stiles, think," he encouraged, "you're dad just gave me permission to stay over,"

"Oh," was all he could say.

VVVVV

Derek took Stiles home.

Stiles busied himself with evening activities. He took a shower and brushed his teeth while Derek checked all the windows and doors. Stiles had asked him to do it since it was his forced habit. If the hunters wanted to get into his house, a locked window wasn't going to stop them, but Stiles would feel better if Derek checked anyways. Also, if Derek was staying over, a werewolf was his own security system, his heightened senses like a radar for anything important approaching the house.

When Stiles came out of the bathroom, dressed in a loose shirt and cotton pajama pants, Derek was lounging on his bed, flipping through the channels on his television. Stiles sat in the computer chair and sat silently for a few minutes, watching whatever crap Derek was choosing to watch.

He wanted to join him on the bed but he felt hesitant. Was he allowed? They did share a bed when Derek slept over, but that was when they were sleeping and unaware of each other, at least for the most part, he thought, blushing. It had been a long time since Derek had slept over, not counting last night in his other shape, so maybe it wasn't okay anymore? It was HIS bed and he could do whatever he wanted on it, but Derek was also the alpha and always had the last say.

Maybe Derek didn't want Stiles to sit on the bed. But Derek was not sitting right in the middle of the bed; he was sitting on one side, like he purposefully left enough space for Stiles. His brain hurt. He was exhausted and just wanted to stretch out next to Derek and relax. Why did he always over think things?

Walking slowly over to the other side of the bed, he sat down and stretched out. He glanced down to the space between them, there was about six or so inches between them, that was okay, right? When they sat on the couch, sometimes there would be less space but the couch had different standards. A bed however has many more possibilities, expectations and outcomes...like sex.

He sat tense and on edge through the rest of the TV program, trying to hold himself rigid and away from Derek and if Derek thought he was acting strangely, he might just chalk it up to general Stiles weirdness. He really wanted to close the space and lean into him, rest against him, but he wouldn't. Stiles had been pushing the limit these past few days, weeks even, and he didn't want to push Derek over the edge. Derek might do something more drastic then his usual threaten and growl routine.

When the show ended, Derek turned the TV off and put the remote on the side table. He turned to look at Stiles. Stiles continued to look at the darkened TV, his body rigid with anticipation of something dark coming. He knew he should have stayed in the computer chair. He could feel, more than see, Derek watching him.

"What's wrong?" Derek broke the silence with a quiet question.

Even though Derek was quiet, Stiles still jumped, taunt like a string inside a piano, his heart skittering in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek extend a hand to reach out to him. Stiles yelped in surprise, recoiling quickly, almost off the bed. His eyes were wide and crazed, looking at Derek. Derek froze and pulled his hand back, his own eyes wide. Something flickered across his face, it was fast but it looked a lot like hurt.

Stiles suddenly felt like a jerk. Here was Derek, a guy who was stony and damaged, reaching out to help him, something that would be unbelievable six months ago. He was actually being surprisingly compassionate, staying with Stiles and checking to make sure he was okay. And Stiles was treating him like a freaking murderer. What was he thinking? He tried to clamp down his beating heart and control his breathing.

Derek had his mask on, he looked indifferent but with all the times they've been hanging out, Stiles knew better.

Stiles forced his irrational fears down and moved to sit next to Derek, this time only a few inches separating them, close enough that Derek's wide shoulders brushed against Stiles' frame. Although Derek looked relaxed and comfortable, he could feel the tension.

"I'm sorry for being a jackass," he leaned his shoulder against Derek. "I'm just-" he was about to lie unintentionally. "I'm just feeling tense," he said instead, which didn't really explain anything. Derek was silent.

"I never know how to act around you," his confession sounded raw. Derek turned and looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion, hell, Stiles was confused about what that meant too.

"Er, can I sit here? Is this okay? I mean, I can sit in the chair instead," he spewed his thoughts out there into the room.

"That's what spooked you just now? You weren't sure if it would be okay to sit next to me?" Derek looked god damned skeptical.

"Er, yeah," he replied sheepishly.

"It's your house, your room. You can sit wherever you like," he paused, "I don't mind if you sit next to me," he added hesitantly, like he was sharing a confession.

Stiles beamed. He bounced closer, closing the gap between them so they were pressed from their shoulders to their knees. Ecstatic like a child, he wrapped his arms around Derek's middle and squeezed him in a hug. He let his head rest on Derek's shoulder. If someone had told him six months ago that he would snuggle with Derek on his bed like a girl in a chick flick, he would flip shit, but yup, here he was, snuggled and feeling a little too girly. With his arms securely around the werewolf, he was warm and comfortable. No wonder girls like this type of shit, it felt good.

He reluctantly released his hold, and moved his whole body back into his space, now just sitting closely, next to Derek.

"You would tell me though, right? You would tell me if I did something you didn't like? Using words? Because although I love it when you get in my space and press against me," Shit, keep that to yourself, Stiles! He hurried along to cover up his slip, "It's confusing and it would go a lot smoother if you would just use your words, man,"

"Um, okay," Derek responded which wasn't a long, heart felt, warm fuzzies, 'I'll-try-better,' but this was Derek he was talking to, and it was good enough for Stiles.

Stiles reached around Derek for the remote, turning the channel to Discovery Channel. They watched a show on Africa for a while. Stiles moved down the bed a little bit so he was able to lie down on his back, his shoulders and head propped up with two pillows. Since he's been having visitors sleep in his bed, he's had more pillows available for use; he could use two comfortably while there would be an extra two available for Derek.

During a quiet commercial, Derek looked down at Stiles.

"Why didn't you tell me about the nightmares?" Since everything was being unveiled, might as well talk about this too.

"I didn't want you to be mad," said in a small voice.

"Why would you think that?" he sounded genuinely confused.

"Because it would show you another reason why I'm the weakest link in the pack," his fears were on the table now.

Derek stilled beside him.

"Is that what you think? Is that what you think I think? You don't know me at all," Stiles jerked his head to look at him.

"It's hard to get to know you Derek when you don't say very much," there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Stiles, you are the strongest link in the pack, even though your human," the hand that was clenched around all his hope was loosening it's hold. "Annoying, yes, persistent, yes, but so strong. You've done so much good for the pack. You insisted to hold pack meetings at your house and suggested a reasonable cover story for your dad.

"Now look, you're dad is worrying a lot less because you're hanging out with friends and he's less wary of me. You brought this pack closer than it's ever been and you keep them safe, keep our pack safe." Derek was looking at him with earnest.

"Oh," was all he could say, but on the inside, his soul was tap dancing. He liked that Derek said 'our,' pack, once again, acknowledging him as a pack member. Derek seriously just gave him enough warm fuzzies for a month.

Derek moved down to lay just like Stiles was. Stiles, in a moment of impulse, which was not an uncommon occurrence with his ADHD, rolled over and moved to sling his arm over Derek's chest, but sucked in a breath when his abdomen flared with pain.

Derek looked at his face, his clenched jaw, furrowed brow, blinking eyes and quivering lips, reading the physical features like a book. Letting Derek push him on his backside, the man cautiously raised the hem of his shirt up to see his bruises. He strained his neck to look down at himself, it looked like his whole abdomen with splotchy blues and purples. He wanted to cover back up, he was so embarrassed this had happened to him.

He should have reacted faster, he should have fought harder. Regret, regret, so much regret.

Derek's gaze was hot on his skin and with a surprisingly gentle hand, he ran his fingers across the bruises. Stiles' breath hitched in the unexpected pleasure as Derek's finger tips sent chills across his skin, stirring desire inside his belly.

He was flabbergasted with his body's response, Derek was only running his fingers over his bruises but it still sent flames of desire alight inside of him. He cursed at himself, now was not the best time for this to happen.

Derek flattened his palm against his stomach and Stiles watched in fascination as black veins crept up Derek's arm and disappeared, along with all of Stiles' pain. What? Derek frowned and closed his eyes, dealing with Stiles' pain for a moment and then it was gone.

"Thank you," his voice was quiet but grateful.

He was surprised when Derek did not remove his hand, but kept dizzily tracing over his bruises. He clenched his jaw and willed his desire to dampen but Derek kept distractedly running his finger tips across his skin. It took everything he had not to moan.

When Derek finally stopped, he smoothed Stiles' shirt back over his chest and laid back down beside him.

Stiles tried to roll over again, this time he was able to without being in pain. He rolled over, tucking his body against Derek's side, his arms resting gently over Derek's chest. Derek's arm came up from behind held against his back. He closed his eyes and felt Derek's chest rise and fall with each breath.

"What are your nightmares about?" His heart skipped and he knew Derek could hear it because the arm around his back tightened.

"Just, uh, stuff about the hunters," he didn't want to go into details. The hand started to move in wide, slow circles on his back, soothing his fears. It suddenly felt okay to talk about the nightmares, they were only dreams, after all.

"How often do you get them?"

"Almost every night,"

"But not last night," Derek stated.

"Not on the nights you sleep over, " Stiles corrected, ears turning red, so glad that his eyes were closed.

Derek hummed in response, turning and rubbing his face into Stiles' hair. Stiles mewed like a fucking kitten, and rolled back onto his back, turning his head up to expose his neck to Derek.

Yes, Stiles was turning into a scent whore but the sensations felt so good and it turned him on to know that the wolves knew that he smelled like Derek, like he belonged to Derek. He knew that Derek only meant it like a pack thing, that he was a member of the Hale pack, but Stiles secretly wished that it meant that he belonged personally to Derek.

Derek paused. Stiles couldn't see what he was doing or what expression was on his face, but in another moment, Stiles felt hot breath against his neck. It sent a delicious shiver across his skin and his body tightened in anticipation. The heat moved across his neck, down to his clavicle, up to his jaw, then around to behind his ear. He couldn't help the needy sound that whined out of his throat. It made Derek pause and Stiles whined again, why was he stopping?

In another moment, a moment that felt agonizingly long and torturous, Derek's nose touched down on his skin. Finally. He ran it from behind his ear and down to the base of his throat again.

He felt Derek's body shift, lying more on top of Stiles, than next to. Stiles, wanton and turned on, opened his legs willingly and Derek settled between them, but Derek held his torso up above Stiles, like plank position. That was good, otherwise, he might he crushed.

Derek snuffed, sending out puffs of his breath against Stiles' skin; it was hot and intoxicating and Stiles bit his cheek to keep from moaning out.

He wanted to do something with his hands, anything, and hesitantly moved them up to hold Derek's upper arms. He could feel Derek's muscles, flexing and shifting, a real testament to Derek's strength and control. When his fingers griped Derek more firmly, Derek responded with a throaty, appreciative growl.

He felt some stubble and now Derek was using his whole cheek and jaw to trace Stiles' milky throat. He didn't care about stubble rash, he just wanted this, he wanted this feeling. He felt dizzy with pleasure and was glad he was lying down.

Derek turned his face a fraction and suddenly, his lips were on his throat. He planted a kiss to the side of his neck, pressing the kiss then turning his face to nuzzle that spot. He moved over and did it again, and again. When Stiles felt Derek nip his sensitive flesh, Stiles gasped loudly and strangled, arching his back and hugging his thighs tightly around Derek's hips.

Derek pulled back and was standing by the bedroom door by the time Stiles opened his eyes. Stiles felt suddenly and completely mortified. His face flushed as he tried unsuccessfully to cover up his raging boner.

"Er, uh, that was... different," he managed.

Derek was looking on with red eyes, panting and almost in his beta form, elongated teeth and wicked looking side burns. Even looking at Derek half morphed, did nothing to slow his mind down; god, he was still turned on like a fucking light, like a bright incandescent bulb or maybe like a LED, those things were bright and lasted forever before needing to be replaced. Whatever, he was turned on so much that a little will power directed at his groin was not going to turn him off again.

"Why did that happen?" he wasn't sure if he was asking about why Derek scent marked him so vigorously or why Derek pulled away. Stiles thought that he would like to hear both explanations. He sat up against his head board, placing a pillow in his lap as he stared at Derek, looking thoughtful. It was unnerving as hell and Derek wanted to get out of there.

""Do you do that to Isaac and all your betas too?" Stiles' voice sounded shaky with embarrassment, "because that was so fucking hot," Derek stared with an open mouth. Did it look like he did this with Boyd? God, sometimes Stiles was really clueless.

"Really, I'm serious. I want to know. Do you do that with all your betas?"

"No," he spat out with reluctance, trying to end the conversation with a glare.

"So, er, what's the special occasion?" he persisted.

"You, your-" he tried to begin but choked. Frustrated, he ground his teeth and shifted his eyes away. Stiles continued to look at him expectantly. "You smell good," he finally ground out.

"Right, well I did just shower," he responded matter-of-factly. Derek grumbled under his breath about that. "What? You just said I smell good, don't you want to know what soap I use?"

"Stiles," he snapped, frustrated that he was even going to try to explain this, "your scent has almost nothing to do with the products you use. It's you, a smell completely unique to you. Showering does almost nothing to alter your natural scent. It's your blood, your hormones, and a combination of other environmental factors, like climate and location, that mix all together and create your own scent. So it's you Stiles, it's all you,"

Stiles blinked owlishly, then grinned.

"You think I smell good. You think I smell irresistible. You obviously can't get enough of me," Fuck. Now the little shit wasn't going to drop the topic. Derek couldn't help that Stiles' scent was so delicious... and he supposed grudgingly that Stiles' couldn't help it either. Stiles could have been freaking out about the news but he was actually taking it like a champ.

Stiles tipped his body sideways, keeping the pillow strategically placed, but rolled his head back and exposing his neck.

"Come on big guy, do your thing," Stiles encouraged, looking over at Derek out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" he was so confused.

"I want you to keep going. Keep scent marking me," Derek's heart stuttered, breath whooshing out of his lungs.

Did Stiles realize what he was asking? Did he realize that he was offering himself, like a potential mate would do? 'Yes,' he wanted to say. He wanted to rub himself all over Stiles so everyone would know that Stiles belonged to him.

"No," he replied firmly.

"What?" Why not?" he whined, wiggling his body on the bed. "Come on, I want you to,"

"No," he said again.

"Ugh, Derek," Stiles whined out of his throat, "but what if some wolf from another pack tries to eat me? You know my odds. It is so likely to happen. If you scented me, he would know that I belong to y-, er, the pack," Derek growled at the thought.

"No, I can't control myself," he managed to partly explain.

"It that because I smell go good?" Stiles teased.

"Er, yeah," he felt flustered, "you smell good and it's making me-" lose control he was about to say but stopped. He didn't like to admit weaknesses.

When humans bare their necks to their human bed partners, it was considered almost soft porn, not even worth a blink, but for a werewolf, the image was positively obscene and his wolf was pushing up to do something.

'Take him, take him,' his wolf urged.

He didn't realize that he was crawling on top of the bed until Stiles made a happy sound in his throat. Shit. He was getting so weak willed. He had to toughen up and stop this foolishness... but after tonight.

He laid his body back down between Stiles' legs, tossing the pillow aside. When he pressed up against Stiles, he could feel the teenager's erection and it pleased his wolf. He could smell that Stiles was embarrassed, trying to wiggle in a different position but the moment Derek's breath touched against his neck, he froze, sighing and moving his hands up to Derek's shoulders again.

Derek rubbed his face over Stiles' neck and shoulders, moving painfully slowly, torturing Stiles and his ability to think clearly. Stiles made a small, needy sound in his throat, wanting more. Exhaling against his skin, Derek moved his lips painfully slow, almost tenderly, across the expanse, kissing along Stiles' jaw and trailing his lips down the column of his throat.

Derek's mouth was hot and wet and Stiles could no longer hold back his noises. His skin felt tight with arousal and he could feel his hard cock press against Derek's groin. He felt hands on his neck, Derek running his thumbs in circles over his pulse point.

Stiles moaned, long and filthy, fingers scrambling for purchase on Derek's arms. He arched, stretching his neck back even further, never wanting Derek to stop. Derek didn't stop. In fact, he seemed more wild and more rough. He kissed and nipped his skin. When Stiles moaned as Derek nipped an extremely sensitive spot behind his ear, Derek responded

with his own throaty moan, and it went right to Stiles' throbbing dick. His stomach clenched with pleasure.

It went on for minutes. His skin felt like it was on fire, tingling and sensitive to everything Derek was doing with his mouth. Stiles was begging, murmuring encouragements, and making needy, aroused sounds in his throat.

"Please, yes, please, Derek, Derek, oh my god, yes, yes," he murmured breathy again and again. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't think. All he wanted was for Derek to keep loving him.

Derek huffed down to the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. Nosing the shirt fabric aside, he dragged his tongue across the surface. Giving into pure instinct, Derek bit into Stiles' shoulder with his flat human teeth, breaking the skin; his wolf howled in triumph.

Stiles first felt a moment of pain and discomfort but then as suddenly as it came, it was washed over with incredible, indescribable pleasure that made him see stars. His skin felt like it was on fire, in a good way, and his mouth slung open, crying out Derek's name as he bucked his hips up against Derek's and came hot and fast inside his pants. His fingers were curled against Derek's shoulders, pulling him forward as he arched and rode our this incredible feeling.

Later he would be embarrassed that he had come in his pants like a horny teenager (well, he was a horny teenager, so no blame there,) but he hadn't even touched himself. But for the moment, he was just laying in euphoria, allowing himself to feel out of control. He had to blink a few times and take some deep breaths to realize that he couldn't feel Derek pressed down on him anymore.

Derek was up and standing with his back pressed against the wall again, his eyes reflecting red...again.

Derek watched Stiles from where he was, not even registering that Stiles was blushing. He just kept running his eyes over Stiles' face, cataloging all the signs that Stiles had been well loved: perspiration on his forehead, half mast eye lids, wet and open lips. The teenager looked so damn inviting.

When Stiles offered his neck to him, he took it. But Stiles' scent was so good, so intoxicating. The air was thick with lust and release, both Derek and Stiles' personal scents blending together to create an intoxicating perfume. When he had realized he had lost control, he should have left. He was still, even now, fighting for control when he realized he wanted to dip down right now and nuzzle against Stiles' crotch, soaking in the sweet smell of his release and sucking the fabric into his mouth to taste his salty come.

Derek shook himself. He didn't want to mortify Stiles anymore tonight. Dammit, Stiles was already a victim tonight, he didn't want to molest him and make him another victim. He didn't know that Stiles was going to respond so adamantly to the scent marking and he didn't suspect that his wolf was going to push for control and take over the situation.

He had to swallow several times and flex his absolute control over his wolf to push him back down. His wolf howled with triumph at their success before Derek closed his eyes and forced his wolf back, away, down. Finally he felt his eyes to bleed back to green.

"You better not do that with the other betas, otherwise, I would feel used," Stiles joked and Derek walked out

(but only to the living room since he promised the Sheriff that he would stay.)

VVVVV

When both the Sheriff and Stiles were asleep in their beds, he climbed back into Stiles' room, the lingering smell of come, sweat and their mingling scents was heady but he still slipped under the covers and spooned the teenager. Stiles, although asleep, pushed back against his chest, murmuring, then with a contented sigh, snuggled deep within the blankets.

Derek held his breath as Stiles shifted in his sleep. The boy looked peaceful and tender, his eye lashes shifting on his pale cheeks.

Derek's arms tightened around him, thinking for a moment about the nightmares. It made him angry that Stiles tried to keep that from him but he softened when he remembered that Stiles had said that he didn't have nightmares whenever Derek slept over. He swelled with pride and fierce protection.

He closed his eyes and let his breathing slow. Every inhale reminded him that he was safe and warm with pack.

He would do everything to keep this boy safe.