Disclaimer: Derek and Stiles sadly do not belong to me. Nor does Teen Wolf. Weh.
Warnings: Not canon-complacent, angst, humor, crossdressing, fabulous drag queen OCs, pining, courting, mating, D/s, knotting, rimming, licking, cum eating, animalistic/feral/possessive behaviors, PackMom!Stiles, PackDaddy!Derek, puppy piles, affectionate poly!pack, threesomes, moresomes, pet names, Daddy kink, Twilight references, potential OOC
The night is cool and brisk, and Stiles rubs his hands together before shoving them into the pockets of favorite red hoodie.
It's been a couple weeks since the competition, fall slowly turning over to winter.
Stiles still often keeps in contact with the ladies on a regular basis, going out to see them a few days a week either at Jungle or the Diner or their own homes, and usually the pack is in tow for at least one of those days to dance and party or just to hang out and watch a movie (or makeover parties. Which ever comes up first).
It's quickly becoming Stiles's favorite thing, his Queen friends and his pack all in one place having a good time, especially when they're at Jungle.
Stiles and Jackson - having bonded and gotten closer over the greatness that is Lydia Martin, lacrosse, pool, and strangely enough strawberry twizzlers - have taken to dancing together a lot of the time, gaining more that just a few appreciative eyes on them when they sway and grind their hips together erotically, two sexy little twinks pressed up all close and personal, wrapped up in each other's arms and sometimes making out playfully (Because friends like them make out all time, right? Right.) in plain sight of their typically brooding Alpha. They make it known too, if the coy smiles they shoot his way from across the dance floor are any indication.
The two have this little game to see how long it will take Derek to come and join them, the grumpy wolf not liking to dance but can move quite well when he has to, like when an interloper who doesn't know any better approaches his boys with a greedy look in his eye.
The Alpha usually scares any trespassers away though, much to the amusement of Jungle's regular patrons like Jake and the ladies. Stiles and Jackson will trade secret smirks, succeeding in getting the older man to dance with them at least for a little while.
It's been a couple weeks and Stiles's crown and sash are placed high on a shelf in his room at the Hale house, glittering merrily in the light of the full moon.
He's currently outside in the wide open backyard of the Hale house and pulls up his sleeve to check his new expensive custom-made Batman watch that had been sitting on his desk that morning (Jackson's apparently taking a page out of his Alpha's book).
"They back yet?" his dad calls, coming out of the grand open kitchen through the sliding door with two steaming mugs of coffee, black and strong just how the Stilinski men like it.
"Not yet," Stiles replies, taking the mug handed to him, "Thanks, Dad."
"Mhmm," the Sheriff nods, and they both take a sip.
"Ahhh," they sigh out at the same time, their breath fogging up in front of their faces in the cold night air.
"So," John starts, "Werewolves."
Stiles nods, taking another sip, "Yep. Werewolves."
His dad hums, "Is Derek still showering you with gifts?"
"Yep," he says, popping his 'p' at the end, "I think it's a bit of instinct, you know? In the animal kingdom, males court their potential mates by showing that they can provide for them; food, shelter, and protection from rivals and enemies. In the modern human world, a lot of it translates to fanciful things money can by." He takes a breath and gulps down more liquid caffeine goodness.
His dad nods, "Makes sense."
"Mhmm. Why just today, I got a new watch from Jackson. I think he's following in Derek's footsteps." He flashes the watch at his dad.
John whistles, having learned all about omegas among other things from Peter's explanations on werewolf society. He squints a little, spotting a little crown about the stylized Batman insignia on the watch face. "Wait, is that a Rolex? Wow."
"Yeah I know, right? I almost tripped and sprained something when I saw the box. You?"
His dad snorts, "You do that every day." He ignores Stiles indignant squawk, "Anyway, Peter's 'gift' to me was upgrading my wardrobe when he found out I haven't really gone out shopping for myself since the 90's."
Stiles grins, "Oh man, I can only imagine how appalled he was when he found your acid washed denim jackets, neon trainers, tweed suits and jorts."
His dad lets out an affronted noise, "Hey! I'll have you know I was the hippest trend setter in my day. Peter only cried in despair a total of one time after going through my closet, and then I cried when he dragged Chris along and took me out to the nearest fancy men's boutiques. Not to mention we ended up scouring the entire mall on top of that." John gulps down some more coffee. "And what the heck are jorts?"
"Jean shorts, dad. Keep up with the times."
John shakes his head and mock-sniffs, "Kids these days. No respect."
"Whatever, old man," Stiles ducks away laughing when his dad takes a half-hearted swipe at his head. He grins and straightens up with a thought. "Hey, out of curiosity, has Chris taken Peter's lead and get you anything special?"
"Chris took it upon himself to upgrade my gun cabinet."
Stiles stares, "Seriously?"
John smiles dreamily, "Yep."
"Oh my god, of course he would," he groans, palming his face, "Guns = protection. Why didn't I see that coming?"
John chuckles.
Father and son drain their mugs as they talk werewolf mating rituals, and just as they set their empty cups down onto a nearby patio table stocked with the necessary items for a night such as this (fluffy towels, bottled water, large Tupperware containers...), laughing about nesting and den making, there's rustling in the bushes and soon emerge their wayward werewolves, grisled and covered in blood.
The dark towering figure of Derek's Alpha form looms closer, Peter in his beta form not far behind him, before the Alpha shifts his hulking shoulder and carefully drops his heavy burden in front of Stiles. Beside him, Peter does the same.
It's a stag, an impressive 14 points by Stiles's count, it's throat cleanly sliced through resulting in a quick and painless death. Peter's kill is an older full grown doe that looks like she had lived a good while and must have not been able to keep up with her herd before Peter took her down. The once-insane wolf wasn't so cruel as to take one of the younger does who might have fawned that year.
"Ah," is all Stiles can say as his dad's eyebrows raise into his hairline before both Hales are changing, Peter's face smoothing out as Derek shrinks down to normal size, fur receding to reveal sleek naked skin.
Glowing wolf eyes stare at their respective mates expectantly.
John takes that as his cue to speak up, "Well, it looks like we'll be eating venison for a while. A good time to cook up some burgers and steaks then."
Stiles turns from staring at the dead animal in front of him and glares at his dad, "Your diet doesn't allow venison."
"Oh come on, son, it'll be rude if I don't eat at least some of it," John wheedles as Stiles crosses his arms stubbornly.
He opens his mouth to argue but is distracted by blood covered muscles heading his way. Did he mention that Derek's totally naked? Because he is, seeing as transforming into his full Alpha form doesn't allow for silly things such as clothing. It'll only tear off and get in the way anyhow.
He's thankful that Peter and the rest of the pack prancing around in the preserve are wearing some shorts or at least their skivvies.
Mindful of the blood, Derek takes Stiles into his strong arms, crimson eyes gleaming while Peter stalks his way towards John.
Supernatural cerulean meets soft worn blue, and Peter lets out a low purr when John quirks a smile at him and cups his face in a broad calloused palm. The oldest beta leans and nuzzles into it, kissing the meat of John's thumb and nipping playfully. His Sheriff chuckles.
Suddenly a gunshot cuts through the stillness of the night not far from where they stand idle.
The two wolves simultaneously let out a lip-curling snarl and slip back into their more feral natures, taking off towards the sound inside their territory and so close to the house.
Father and son trade startled looks before running after them.
They reach a small clearing and see Peter shift back before running over to Chris, who looks a little worse for wear. John hurries over to them.
Stiles looks to Derek who is still in Alpha form sniffing and inspecting a very much dead mountain lion of all things with his lupine snout, a clean bullet hole through the side of its head.
Chris gestures to it with his rifle, "Not a deer, but it'll do."
"Show off," Peter grumbles but there's clear relief on his face.
After fretting over him and looking for injuries, John punches the hunter in the arm, "Don't do that to me again, you ass. Courtship traditions be damned, it's not gonna work if the one doing the courting is dead."
"Ow," Chris smiles tiredly, "I just got into a fight with a puma, old man. Gimme a break."
John shakes his head in exasperation but pulls him into a kiss. Peter purrs delightedly and nudges his way in too.
Stiles makes a face, gagging a little - because ew, no - and looks away as Derek lumbers over to him.
"Hey, big guy."
The wolf gently snuffles his mate with his nose, one huge five-fingered paw coming up to curl around the back of Stiles's thigh.
Stiles feels a silly smile pull at his mouth and returns the nudge, rubbing his face against the soft fur of Derek's forehead and hugging the wolf's head to his chest. A hand reaches up to play with one of Derek's pointed ears, his eyes barely making out the wolf's tail slowly wagging back and forth behind all that furry bulk as he gives Derek a good ear-scritching.
Derek whines and nuzzles closer for more.
"You're so cute," Stiles coos, "like a great big gigantic puppy." He laughs at the unimpressed look on Derek's wolf features, before sputtering indignantly when Derek licks his face. "Gah-bleh!"
"Jerk," he pouts. Derek pants in his face open-mouthed and licks him again.
"Wah! Bad Derek, bad wolf!" Stiles tries to bat him away.
Not heeding his mate's complaints, Derek tackles him then into the grass and attacks him with wolfy kisses.
"No, down boy-hey! Not the hair!"
They head back to the house after Stiles gets Derek to stop licking and pawing at him, the boy now perched up on top of Derek's back as they bring up the rear.
Peter has the mountain lion thrown over his shoulder like it's nothing, his unoccupied hand intertwined with one of Chris's while John is on the hunter's other side, walking close with an arm around his back.
The three men make a strange but admittedly kind of cute sight together, though Stiles will never admit it to them. Ever. He doesn't need to give Peter any more ammo to use against him in the future, that is if his dad hasn't already with stories from his childhood.
He shudders. Oh, the horror.
Once back in the yard, Peter sets the puma down away from the deer.
It's to be cleaned, stuffed and mounted, and will make quite the handsome hunting trophy indeed, fit to sit guard by the fireplace in the living room of the Hale house where John wants it, because it certainly isn't going back to casa de Stilinski. "It will fit better here, with the forest so close by and everything," the Sheriff points out, "besides, where the heck would I put it at my place?"
Chris makes a mental note to call the taxidermist later tomorrow.
Behind them, Derek throws his head back and howls for the pack to return to base.
It was time to feast.
The pups all coming running back out of the bushes, all glowing iridescent eyes and toothy grins, Lydia, Danny and Allison not far behind them.
Derek turns back into a man, plucking the sweats his mate's father threw to him out of the air and slipping them on for the moment. He pets Jackson's head when the omega comes near before the blond bounds off to rub up against Stiles.
The boy laughs and ruffles Jackson's hair affectionately. Then Isaac tackles Jackson with a growl and they're tussling playfully in the grass. The two roll to a stop with Isaac on top and Jackson whimpers before baring his throat to the beta.
Isaac yips and nuzzles the offered neck, licking softly before they pick themselves up to stand by the others, though they stay huddled together.
Stiles internally melts, because seriously, those two are just too cute.
With the pack surrounding them, the wolves restless and hungry, Derek and Peter crouch down and plunge a clawed hand into their kills, still warm and fresh, and pull out the heart; a delicacy among their kind.
The two Hales stand and present their gifts to their intendeds, gaining tentative approval from each Stilinski. They carefully slice into the organs with a claw and cut out the most tender portion to feed to their mates as tradition dictates.
John looks grim and Stiles appears a little green but the two lean in and manly consume the bloody morsel from the claws of their chosen wolf.
Peter smears a little deer blood onto John's lips, paints them red before lapping at them delicately with little kitten licks, their mouths finding each other shortly after.
Derek does the same to Stiles, who moans a little when the wolf turns from gentle to devouring in a matter of seconds.
The pairs break apart for breath and the two Hales lick at their lips before throwing their heads back and howling in triumph, their courtship complete. Their intendeds have found them worthy, accepted them as mates. Victory is sweet.
The rest of the wolves join in and harmonize, their human pack mates clapping and cheering as Chris watches the proceedings from the sidelines with tired yet satisfied eyes. He remembers the night Peter had presented him a deer not too long ago.
Noticing how roughed up her father appears, Allison goes over to makes sure he's okay which he waves off with a fond smile, kissing her forehead.
The two Argents then join the other humans and together they make quick work of what sections of the deer they want to save for later.
Once the meat is packed away and stored in the industrial sized freezers downstairs along with the entire puma, Derek gives Jackson and the betas the signal and the wolves converge onto the remains with animalistic glee.
Stiles looks on after his pack; the pups tearing into the carcasses, Danny, Lydia and Allison discussing future dinner menus now that they have so much deer meat, his dad laughing at something Peter is saying while Chris rolls his eyes in exasperation.
Contentment buzzes under his skin as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
Life is good.
He catches Derek's red eyes over the pups' free for all and the Alpha smiles slowly. Dangerous. Predatory.
He blinks, then a blush takes over his face unbidden as he recalls what's going to happen next.
Derek raises his eyebrows at him suggestively, nodding towards the forest.
He widens his eyes. Now?
Derek tilts his head and gives him a sexy little smile. Why not?
He gulps and licks at his lips, flushing further when the Alpha's eyes immediately dart to the small movement.
The pups stop gorging themselves for a moment at Stiles's increased heartbeat and turn to find the Alpha pair eye fucking each other.
Peter snorts from his spot nestled in between his two mates and waves the two off. "Go on. We got things covered here."
At that, Derek grins wolfishly. Pun intended.
"Wait, you're not doing this part, Dad?" Stiles asks nervously.
John snorts, "Old man, remember?" Stiles makes a face at him, then turns tail and runs without warning, laughing wildly at Derek's playful growl.
"Run, Little Red, run," Derek calls after him, dark humor tinging his deepening and increasingly guttural voice, cracking his neck as the shift begins to take over, "Because once I catch you, I'm never letting you go."
"I'm counting on it, Big Bad!" Stiles whoops and runs deeper into the forest as fast as his long legs can carry him - which is quite the distance thanks to running around, running away, and chasing supernatural critters - weaving through the trees and shrubbery and grinning joyously when he hears the echoing howl all the way back at the house.
The Chase is on.
A/N: Finis!
...or is it? XD
I guess this is like a pseudo-ending, at least in regards to most of the plot.
From here on out, it's mostly gonna be smut.