The cold steel pressing against his throat made Stiles question the perspicacity of his actions. He thought he'd overseen and overheard stuff by chance and apparently that was not the case at all. They wanted him here. He glanced around hoping somebody had seen what was going on, but the whole floor was oddly deserted. It was as if everyone knew that shit was gonna go south and didn't want anything to do with it.

Derek's jaw tightened, but that was the only tell that the Alpha was angry. He looked calm and collected, if not a bit bored.

"Not my type, but thanks for offering," he said, returning his attention to the magazine.

The men cackled. "Would you look at that! The pretty boy thinks he can bluff. Isn't that cute?" the guy with a knife asked others. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his bald head covered in prison tats and Stiles would bet money he was the one in charge, probably an Alpha. Others kept themselves one step behind, they were not as bulky and didn't give off dominant vibes.

"Cute, but not smart," one of the sidekicks agreed.

"We got your pet in here." The leader turned back to Derek, patting Stiles on the cheek. "And if you want him to keep breathing in the nearest future, you are going to be a good boy and do as I say, capiche?"

Derek's eyes flashed an angry shade of red.

"Perhaps a little demonstration is in order." The blade hit Stiles' chin, prompting him to tilt his head back. "Stay very still kiddo, or my hand might slip and hit an artery... and that would just be messy."

The sharp sting was followed by a warm sensation of blood leaking down his throat. Stiles stopped breathing, shutting his eyes in silent prayer. It was just a scratch, right? He started feeling lightheaded and he had no idea whether it was from the gripping fear or from the blood loss. The low growl from the other side of the cell brought him back to the present.

Derek looked scary - fists clenched, fangs out, whole body tense and ready to pounce, eyes crimson and positively murderous.

"Down boy," the asshole ordered derisively. "On your knees, face the wall, hands behind your back."

Derek sank to the floor without protest.

"Good boy," the leader cooed while two others tied Derek's wrists together with a couple of zip ties.

Stiles touched his throat. His fingers were coated in blood, but he could tell that the blade barely grazed him. He was not bleeding to death. Yet. Thank you very much.

"Let him go, I'll do what you want," Derek snarled. It didn't sound like a plea, but rather a demand. Only Derek would act all domineering while kneeling in front of a bunch of convicts.

"You see, sugar pie, we kinda want you dead. And it's hard to assure compliance in such cases. I'm afraid the kid will have to stay here and suffer a few more cuts before we are finished. Because I plan on making it last."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! This was bad. So bad. Stiles's thoughts were scattered all over the place, his mind completely numb.

"How much is Palmer paying you? I'll double that if you let him go right now."

"It's not all about money, Derek. I have a reputation to maintain. If I could be easily swayed by sniveling of my targets, my business would suffer. In here, loyalty still means something, you know? There are rules. Like keeping your hands off others' property. I mean I didn't want to make it personal, but you touched my stuff, so now I'm gonna touch yours."

With that, he grabbed Stiles by the hair, bared his throat, and cut him again. This time it was a single fast flick of the wrist, followed by sharp pain and more blood.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Stiles pressed his hand against his throat, panicking. He was bleeding, he didn't know how much, but certainly more than before. He had to think of something or they will both be dead soon.

How much did they know about Derek's abilities? Probably enough not to try to take him on 4v1 and get Stiles there instead. But did they know he could relieve pain? Absorb injuries? Maybe if they could touch somehow, two of them combined could last longer? Long enough for Mikhail to figure what's up and come rescue him? That is, if the Russian even cared enough (or was paid enough) to get involved. Everyone else seemed to know to stay away.

Stiles leaned against his captor. "I'm not feeling so good," he croaked. "Maybe you could just tie me up with Derek, I don't trust to stay on my feet."

"Of course, sugar, would you like to get a cuddle too? Or a nice soft pillow to make you comfy?" the Alpha sneered, his breath tickling Stiles's ears.

Alright, there went that plan. They were gonna die here. Stiles felt sick. "I'm gonna throw up," he warned them out of some misguided sense of courtesy before the retching reflex took over. With a knife pressed against his throat, he couldn't exactly bend over, as his natural body response would demand, instead he turned to the side to avoid impaling himself and waved his hands in panic.

As expected, nobody was particularly keen on getting a load of vomit on themselves, so everyone instinctively jumped away. The blade left his throat just in time as Stiles spewed his dinner on the floor. That must have been what Derek was waiting for. Stiles hadn't even finished retching when he was tackled down landing on top of his captor. The knife flew into the hall and Stiles was unceremoniously pushed out of the way as Derek's (no longer bound) fists found its target. The con didn't even put much of a fight, the third hit knocked him out but the punches never stopped.

As Stiles was crawling away one of the sidekicks tried to pull Derek off his boss and the next second he was hurled against the wall rendered unconscious. Two others were stunned into a breathless observation of Derek's revenge. The enraged Alpha was ruthless. The blunt pounding was accompanied by cracking sounds of the bones breaking and splashes of blood landing on Derek's face. It was a terrifying sight. Probably even more terrifying than being cut.

"Oy blyad'!" Stiles heard Mishka's voice coming from the hall and soon he saw the Russian trying to gently pry Derek away from the bloody mess under him. "Tikho, tikho, tikho. Vse, khvatit," he coaxed, catching his wrists. "He out."

Derek reluctantly let himself be dragged away, breathing heavily, fangs still out, and eyes a deep shade of red. Guards rushed inside the cell followed by a man in police uniform. He kneeled next to the beat down con and felt his pulse, then nodded at others and ordered to take him to the medical ward.

"Taking your sweet time," Derek snarled at him angrily.

The policeman ignored the snide remark and went inside the cell. He took the book lying on the table and extracted a small camera from it, and then another from the mattress on the bed and the third one from the corner. "Good job, Hale. I'll still need a statement from you though." Then he turned towards Stiles and examined his neck carefully. "You're good, it's nothing serious, but the doctor should take a look anyway in case you need stitches."

Stiles and Derek shared a brief look of relief and then Stiles was taken to the med ward while Derek followed the cop to give a statement.

xxx

Stiles's neck didn't need stitching. The nurse cleaned and disinfected the cuts and by the time she was applying the bandage, the adrenalin levels plummeted and Stiles started dozing off from exhaustion.

He was woken by the quiet voices a couple hours later. He opened his eyes and smiled when he saw his dad, Scott, and Isaac sitting by his bed.

"Hey guys," he rasped sleepily.

"Hey Stiles, how's prison?" Isaac chaffed.

God, how he missed those smiling faces. "One out of ten, would not recommend."

"What's the one for?"

"Food is not as bad as I expected," Stiles replied grinning, then he noticed the neighbor on the bed next to him. He recognized the guy by the tattoos on his head, his face was a bruised swollen mess. He had an IV and was intubated since his nose was... hard to find. "How is he?"

"Alive. Unfortunately," Scott said with palpable disdain.

"Or thankfully," Isaac disagreed. "Depending on the point of view."

Stiles knew he was talking about Derek. He doubted there would have been legal consequences even if Derek did kill him, given the extenuating circumstances, but he was glad Derek wouldn't have to live with such a burden. But damn was he brutal. Stiles shuddered at the memory.

"There were cameras in Derek's cell," he noted, looking at his dad.

"Yes. Peter was positive that it was only a matter of time before they tried to take Derek out. The prosecutor in Baker is an old friend of mine. I went to him as soon as I heard about your arrest and he said that it would be easier to reopen your case if Derek managed to get video evidence."

"So Derek planned for the ambush," Stiles muttered, biting his lip.

"He might have even provoked it. Of course, now that Douglas cracked, we have enough to get you out regardless. But it got us extra evidence on Palmer and it can still come in handy for your BRP evaluation. This lowlife -" he nodded at his neighbor "- is going to get transferred to the high-security penitentiary, much to the relief of the Baker's prison warden."

Stiles touched his bandaged throat. "You're welcome," he sneered at the ceiling. Even though his own input was hardly helpful…One could even call it detrimental. But well, details.

The Sheriff petted his hair affectionately. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

"The trouble always finds me." Stiles gave him an innocent look. "So how did our plan go?"

"Liam brought the flash drive to Deucalion as planned. The prosecutor told me that it would be a good idea to get the FBI involved, so I called Agent McCall, and then it was out of our hands. It worked, they got enough on Douglas and squeezed him, he cut a deal and gave them everyone else - Deucalion, Palmer, the CEO of Blast Pharmaceuticals and a couple others."

"What kind of a deal?" Stiles asked, frowning. He never particularly liked Scott's dad, but he agreed that in this case involving the FBI was probably the right call.

His dad scratched the back of his head with a grimace. "He became a witness."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"I know," the Sheriff agreed placatingly. "But this is not all bad. He will testify in court, so Liam won't have to."

"He should be rotting in jail along with the rest of them, not sunbathing his ass on the Bahamas in the witness protection program," Stiles fumed, shaking his head. "Liam is not going with him, is he?"

"I actually don't know. I haven't seen the kid since he was taken by the CPS."

Stiles sighed heavily, his good mood taking a dive. He knew that overall it was a positive outcome. The legal system was far from perfect and putting away a criminal organization and a corrupt high ranked politician far outweighed punishing a common government official, but Stiles still felt cheated. Douglas might have been less important in the grand scheme of things, but he was the one Stiles had a personal beef with because of Liam, the public caning, and the prison (since Stiles had no doubt Douglas had his hand in their prompt arrest).

"Oh well, there's hope Deucalion will get even," he grumbled, crossing arms on his chest.

The Sheriff grew serious. "That is actually a real possibility and that's why it's good that Liam won't have to testify."

His dad had a point. Stiles was still not happy about it, but he felt at least somewhat mollified.

"Cheer up, you are getting out tomorrow. They said you don't have to go back to the cell and can stay here overnight. In the morning you just sign some papers and you are good to go. I have to get back to Beacon Hills, my actual work piled up and is waiting for me. Will you be ok here?"

"Sure dad," Stiles held up his hands, feeling like a toddler asking for a hug, but he didn't care. He had just spent a week in a prison cell and almost got his throat cut by a dangerous convict. He was entitled to get a hug. His father enveloped him in a tight embrace. "Thank you. For everything."

The man planted a kiss on his forehead. "Just try not to give me any more grey hair for at least … a week."

"I'll do my best," Stiles grinned back at him. "Love you."

"Love you too."

xxx

After giving his statement to the police and signing the release papers, Stiles finally went to get his stuff. The loud shouting coming from the waiting room gave him a pause. He recognized Derek's and Peter's voices and from the bits that he overhead he was pretty sure he knew what the two were fighting about.

"I asked you for one fucking thing!" Derek snarled, eyes blazing angrily.

Peter was leaning against the wall with an irritated expression on his face. "I was paying the guy 3k a day, what more do you want me to do?!" he snapped, shaking his head, then he noticed Stiles and pointed at him, "There he is, alive and well. Give me a fucking break."

Stiles entered the room feeling the tension in the air. Still, he was so happy to see Derek, he went straight for a hug. A sharp "Don't" froze him in place before he could even touch him. Deflated at such a cold welcome, he glanced at Peter for help, and as expected the other Alpha was not particularly happy with him either.

"Alright. You are mad at me," he stated the obvious.

Derek turned to glare at him. "I'm not mad, I'm furious! I'm so angry I could whip you right here!"

Peter pursed his lips in a comical "oh shit" expression and Stiles' cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He felt as if he had been slapped. They've been to prison, they haven't seen each other for a week, they've almost got gutted by a bunch of convicts, and this was the first thing Derek said to him? Not only was it hurtful but also quite humiliating to be threatened this way in front of Peter.

"What is wrong with you?!"

Derek refused to look at him. "You should go stay with your dad or Scott or.."

"No," Stiles cut him off, refusing to be pushed away. "You should get over yourself! It's over and we are going home. Together."

Derek grumbled something unintelligible and went to the exit. Stiles nodded at Peter and then followed his boyfriend outside.

...

The drive home was a silent affair. The cab driver was not a chatty fellow, which was appreciated by all the parties involved. Derek was brooding on the other side of the backseat refusing to even look in Stiles's direction and Stiles was trying not to feel too hurt by the cold treatment and come up with something to break the ice.

"How's your neck?" Derek asked him when they got into the elevator.

"I could use some of your Alphadvil," Stiles replied with a hint of a smile. (Alpha Advil = Alphadvil, get it?) Derek did get it. He palmed Stiles's neck without making eye contact and took away what little sting there was. Truth be told, Stiles didn't need any painkillers since it didn't hurt any worse than a couple of Ruby's scratches would. He just wanted Derek to touch him. Show him that he still cared.

Unfortunately, the brief touch was all there was. Derek went straight for the shower and then without a word beelined to his room and closed the door firmly behind him. Stiles thought about following him but then decided to give Derek some space and went for a shower himself.

An hour passed and Stiles was starting to feel ridiculous. He was free, he was home, he could do anything he wanted… If Derek wanted to be difficult, that was his problem right?

Wrong.

Stiles sighed and went to the bedroom to force the fight he knew they were going to have, one way or the other. Just as he was about to knock, the door opened and Derek emerged, all dressed up, carrying his briefcase.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked, surprised.

"Work."

Come again?

"You are kidding, right? We just got out of prison!"

"Your point being?"

Yup. He was still mad. And Stiles hated it. "How long are you going to be sulking?"

Derek's eyes flashed with anger, then his gaze landed on Stiles's bandaged throat and he clenched his fists, his irises returning to normal. "I don't know."

And he was gone.

xxx

This was not how Stiles imagined he would spend his first day of freedom. He cleaned the apartment, changed the bedsheets, did the laundry, went to get Ruby from Kira's, stayed to chat about the horrors of prison life, promised to be "the bestest" Beta in the Program from now on, and then with nothing better to do returned to the empty apartment.

Oh joy.

He kinda missed Mishka. He never got to say goodbye. All in all the Russian was not a bad guy, though Stiles didn't have balls to ask him why he was in prison, figuring he was safer not knowing. Still, even locked in a tiny cell with a silent companion he felt less lonely than this...

Derek came home a few hours later, just as Stiles started to doze off in front of the TV.

"How was work?" Stiles asked conversationally, hoping the Alpha was in a better mood now.

"Fine," came a not particularly promising reply.

"There's pizza," he tried again.

"I already ate."

Yup. Derek didn't get over it. But Stiles refused to let this passive-aggressive bullshit go on any longer. He followed Derek to the bedroom determined to force the confrontation, but the Alpha blocked him in the doorway.

"Go to your room Stiles. I'm not dealing with you right now."

The door was shut in his face and Stiles has had enough. He stormed to his room, grabbed a leather belt he wore on occasion, and flounced back into Derek's bedroom.

"Fucking do it then!" he yelled, throwing the belt at him.

Derek caught the belt and tossed it on the bed, the surprise on his face quickly replaced with irritation. "Stop with the drama, Stilinski!"

"Me?! YOU are the one who is pissed over nothing!"

"Nothing? NOTHING?!" Derek's eyes turned crimson as he grabbed the belt again and pointed it at Stiles. "Perhaps I should use it after all!"

"Right! Go on!" Stiles taunted angrily. "We have been to prison, I haven't seen you for a week. I was scared shitless the whole time. And now we are out. It's all over. We won. All the bad guys will get what's coming to them… and all YOU can think about is how much you want to whip me?! Well, fucking do it then, asshole!" Stiles shouted, all but stomping his foot in anger.

"Do NOT twist it! You know perfectly well why I'm mad!" Derek yelled back.

"Oh right, you expected me to just sit quietly in my cell while they kill you?!"

"I expected you to do as you are told!"

"I couldn't just…"

"Oh yes, you could!" Derek thundered. "You completely disregarded the effort everyone put to keep you safe and rushed heedlessly into action!"

"You are making it as if I WANTED to put myself in danger! I needed to warn you. If I knew that this was all staged I wouldn't meddle, but you never bothered telling me!"

"Oh I'm sorry," Derek snapped, his sarcasm rivaling Peter's at his best. "I was too busy staying alive to come up with a plan on how to inconspicuously deliver a message to my boyfriend who was safely tucked away in the cell. How the fuck did you even get out?!"

"I faked a panic attack."

Derek slapped his forehead in an intense facepalm. "You gotta be fucking kidding me…"

"What?"

"Peter was paying the guy crazy money for every day he keeps you alive. And you got over the language barrier and did the only thing that could endanger his income!"

"I did it to save you…" Stiles muttered sullenly.

"I almost killed a guy because of you… You have no idea…" his voice cracked with a sharp air intake and Derek pressed a fist against his mouth, his eyes getting glassy as he turned away from Stiles.

Stiles felt his insides tore seeing Derek this upset. He couldn't bear it. He touched Derek's arm and the Alpha grabbed him into a fierce hug.

"Der… you are crushing me," Stiles croaked.

"I want to fucking throttle you," Derek growled, holding him tightly.

"I'm sorry."

"You will be. Once I'm done with you, you won't sit for a month."

Somehow the threat didn't scare him, even though it probably should since Derek has never been as angry with him as he was right now. But threats while hugging him this tightly just couldn't yield the same effect.

"Ok. Just don't be mad at me."

Derek put him back at an arms-length, eyes still glowing with a reddish undertone. "I was watching them cut your throat, and couldn't do anything! How can I not be mad?!"

"I'm sorry. But how do you think I felt when I heard they were gonna kill you?"

"Stilinski, don't go comparing us! Besides, I told you it was likely that they were gonna try to off me in prison!"

"So what? I don't have to worry?"

"As long as you stay put, you can worry all you like!"

"That's not fair!"

"No Stiles, not fair is watching your loved one with a knife against his throat!"

"Loved one?" The endearment felt like a soft blanket soothing his wounds and warming him up after a day of cold treatment.

"Don't change the topic… and stop grinning for fucks sake I'm still mad at you!"

"Sorry." Stiles attempted to sober his expression.

There was a pause and Derek's frown finally softened, his irises losing the angry crimson shade. "I thought I'm going to lose you too," he said quietly, looking into Stiles' eyes with a vulnerability that was so uncharacteristic for the proud Alpha.

"I'm sorry, Derek," Stiles apologized again, reaching out to touch Derek's face. "But it all turned out well. I'm ok, you're ok, it's over." He pulled him in and they held foreheads against each other. Stiles felt the knot in his stomach finally untangle and he was able to breathe easily again. They were going to be ok.

They stayed like this for a moment, the tension dissipating, replaced with a calm content feeling. Then Derek cleared his throat and pulled away. "Alright, let's get it over with."

"Wait, I thought we were having a moment!"

"Yes, and now my hand needs to have a moment with your butt."

"No, it doesn't!"

"Stiles. Do you honestly believe you don't deserve to be punished?" Derek looked at him seriously.

Stiles bit his lip. He was sure that for once he could totally talk his way out of this one. Derek wouldn't punish him if Stiles insisted that there was no other option. He tried to send over the Russian and it didn't work. Anyone else would have acted the same way in his situation. Derek included.

Nevertheless, Stiles figured that whatever could clear the air between them right now, he was up for it. Sure, in the perfect world a spanking was supposed to primarily benefit the one being punished - a cathartic experience to release the pent up emotions and guilt, at the same time serving as a corrective measure and a deterrent for future behavior - but right now it felt like Derek needed this to be done more than Stiles did. He had lost so much in his life already. He must have been scared that another person would be taken from him while all he could do was kneel there watching it happen. He needed to feel in control again. And Stiles decided that a sore butt was a small price to pay to get his boyfriend back his equilibrium.

Besides… Stiles was feeling guilty. Even though his choices felt correct at the time, they backfired and endangered both him and Derek. And he never wanted to see Derek lose it this way again.

"No," Stiles said quietly, his cheeks reddening because he just agreed that he deserved to be spanked. No matter how many times Derek punished him, the embarrassment was always there. Stiles never understood how other Betas in the Program could talk about their discipline so freely. To him, the whole experience was embarrassing AF.

Derek nodded and sat on the bed. Stiles didn't wait for the instructions he knew were coming, he pulled his pants down and draped himself over Derek's left thigh, eager to get the unpleasant part out of the way as soon as possible.

His compliance was not rewarded in any way. Derek still pulled his boxers down and didn't hold back in raining hell on his ass.

It hurt. Well, it always hurt, but this time Stiles was sure that he will need to regrow new skin. Just in case you were wondering how serious Derek was about Stiles never sitting again. Well... very. Very fucking serious. The pain was building up to a horrible throbbing inferno, but then for whatever reason started becoming more manageable. The swats were still hard and uncompromising, but Stiles started zoning out, feeling kinda floaty. He was sure he was still whimpering at every punishing blow, but it just wasn't as horrible anymore.

Stiles was so engrossed in what he assumed was the notorious subspace, he didn't even realize he started getting hard. Fuck. That was certainly not the response he should be having, especially since Derek was still upset with him. There was nothing even remotely sexual about this and yet his dick decided he didn't care. The fact that Derek started scolding him throwing around words like irresponsible, reckless, naughty, disobedient, etc, didn't help it whatsoever.

Stiles didn't really listen to him, too focused on losing his erection before Derek noticed it, but the more he tried the harder he got. "I'm sorry," he whined tearfully, starting to slowly crawl away from Derek's lap. He expected to be pulled back and scolded some more, but the spanking actually stopped. Derek probably thought that Stiles couldn't take it anymore, which yeah... wasn't exactly the case.

Derek's thigh slid from under him, as the Alpha got off the bed. Derek kept his hand on the small of Stiles' back, applying gentle pressure and preventing him from getting up. Stiles didn't have time to question it, because the next second he heard the telltale sound of the metallic clasp and then the belt wheezing through the air and landing smartly on his poor ass.

... Motherfucking OW!

Stiles didn't actually expect Derek to use the belt when he threw it in his face. He didn't bother restraining his yelps when four more equally scorching blows kissed (well more like sliced) his butt.

Fuck, that hurt. He will definitely feel that well into tomorrow. This was undoubtedly the hardest spanking Derek has ever given him and yet, by some miracle, it actually didn't completely kill off his hardon. It dwindled significantly from the pain, but once it was over and Derek was all over him, soothing and caring, it was back to full flagging.

"It's ok, baby. I got you, it's over. You're ok," Derek murmured, petting him gently and kissing the back of his head while Stiles just breathed heavily, happy for it to be over. "You're… not crying," Derek noted surprised.

"I'm about to, it hurt like hell," Stiles groused, rubbing his butt with a wince. He did tear up a bit, but he was nowhere near the sobbing mess Derek probably expected him to be.

The Alpha looked confused. "You always cried when I punished you."

"You think I cry from pain?"

"No, you cry from feeling sorry for yourself."

"Ok that too, but mostly from guilt."

Derek cast him an annoyed look. "Are you saying you don't feel guilty? But you apologized!"

"And I am sorry for how it turned out."

"But not for leaving your cell."

Stiles turned to him with a serious expression on his face. "I'll never be sorry for trying to do my best to save you. I would never forgive myself if they killed you and I did nothing."

Derek threw his hands in the air. "You're fucking impossible! You're … hard?" The irritation was replaced with confusion as his eyes traveled down to Stiles' crotch.

Oops.

"Uhm, yeah…"

"What?! Were you enjoying this?" Derek exclaimed, bewildered.

Stiles flushed. "No! It's just that uhm... you called me naughty and disobedient… and I haven't jerked off in a week!" It sounded like a poor excuse but Stiles didn't have a better one.

"I have no words!"

"Well don't get mad now! You already spanked me!"

"Much good did it do!"

"It still hurt," Stiles offered, rubbing his butt with a pout.

"Yes, your hardon looks particularly well-disciplined - just drenched with remorse!" The Alpha growled fuming. He grabbed Stiles' wrists and pinned them above his head, straddling him with a sadistic look on his face. "Well, you wanted to try edging? I'll show you edging. I'll fucking torture you the entire night and come morning I still won't let you come! We'll see how you enjoy that!"

Something between a moan and a whimper escaped Stiles's lips, as his cock twitched with excitement. He couldn't help it, coming from Derek the threat just sounded so hot. He loved when the Alpha got all domineering.

Derek shook his head, but it was obvious he had a hard time clinging to his anger. "How the hell did I manage to fall in love with a wilful know-it-all Beta?!"

"I suppose the same way I managed to fall in love with a conceited grumpy Alphahole," Stiles replied evenly.

"Best thing to ever happen to you, huh?"

There was just no end to Derek's arrogance. But Stiles loved him anyway. "Yeah."

Derek finally pressed his lips against Stiles's in a hungry kiss that was a long time coming. "Yeah. Me too."

TBC

*happy squeals*

Almost done, one more to go^^

Translation:

Oy blyad'! - Oh shit!

Tikho, tikho, tikho. Vse, khvatit - Easy, easy, easy. It's enough.