Panting, the world slows down when he jumps, the wolf barely missing his ankle by mere inches as he backflips and lands, clawed hands and boots digging into the forest ground. As Stiles comes to a stop, he's face to face with Derek's fully shifted wolf form.
Fangs bared and growling, the massive black wolf circles Stiles, blood crimson eyes, unmoving as it paces. Watching him pant, it licks its lips when he wipes the sweat from his brow.
"Your fast, I'll give you that." Stiles chokes out, trying to regain his breath. The wolf growls fangs bared and drooling, stalking ever so close to him, he stumbles back.
"My, my, grandma what big teeth you have…" The wolf growls deeply, the hair on its back standing up. Stiles laughs, having way too much fun with his wolf jokes. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the Triskelion pendant. Waving it in the air like a dog treat he says,
"Looking for this, big bad wolf?" Stiles smirks. The wolf lunges towards him but he's already gone. Sliding right underneath its huge form, he makes a run for it again. He laughs at Derek snarling from behind him but focuses on knowing that this was his last chance to lose Derek once and for all.
To be honest, Stiles was actually worried he wasn't going to make it. Derek was fucking fast ok? Stiles was literally putting in all his effort to just stay barely a foot ahead. Stiles. A fucking Vampire was sweating. Sweating! He didn't even know he could do that anymore!
He runs straight, hoping to god that his plan pulled through as he runs miles and miles back into Beacon Hills preserve. When they reach the edges of town he makes sure to put extra effort into running faster. He needed to get into town to disguise himself, hopefully losing Derek in the process amongst the hundreds of people and scents.
He throws himself into the crowd of farmer market buyers, listening to Derek's wolf growls from behind him unable to follow. He smirked, putting his red hood up and his head down, he allows himself to get lost amongst the hundreds of bodies and fresh produce stands.
Heart racing in his ears, he slows down to match the other pedestrians mindlessly lost in their own worlds. He briskly walks further into town, around corners and back alleyways aimlessly.
Once he's sure he's not being followed, Stiles takes his phone out of his pocket.
"Give me directions to the nearest occult library."
In an instant, an address to the only surviving library in Beacon Hills appears on his screen. He lets his phone direct him where to go. He walks a few miles down, away from the new, polished modernly built skyscrapers of Beacon Hills. The deteriorating quality of the buildings around painfully obvious. Broken glass and debris litter the streets, bullet holes, ash, and graffiti cover the old styled buildings, the leftover resemblance of the war torn town Beacon Hills once was.
Stiles remembers it well. Being the Sheriff's son, they had to move to rougher areas for his dad's job and Beacon Hills just happened to be one of the worst ones. Thing is, with all the terrible crimes going on in Beacon Hills at the time, he flew under the radar, actually becoming good at picking up on his dad's detective, sheriff skills and becoming way too observant for his own good.
This is why Stiles, with eventually Scotts help, of course, made it their hobby to find out about the gang crimes and territory fights between the supernatural creatures in town or why some kids in their classes seemingly disappeared and never returned. What they later found out was that Beacon Hills was the perfect place in the middle of nowhere, where people came to die and die they did, frequently.
When Stiles approaches the old brick building, he sighs contently as the memory of Scott and himself at the library reading comic books together come back to him. But Stiles was very aware that this wasn't just some old library, it was the library of the occult. Mythical and magical spells and creatures wrote throughout history could be found at every turn.
Breaking the lock and pushing up the metal gate, revealing the cobwebbed wooden door and glass display, he kicks the door down, cautiously entering incase of a booby-trap or protection spells that might still be up. Transforming, he makes his way through the disheveled books and merchandise, walking through its alphabetical shelves, until his eyes land on an animus old door in one of the isles.
"Employees Only."
Written on the dusty glass window, which Stiles punches through easily, reaching over and unlocking the door in seconds.
Once inside, he's meet with even more shelves of books, overwhelmed by the sight of the overflowing storage room he lets his instincts lead him where to go. Walking towards the back and immediately spotting the huge treasure chest, he walks over to it, breaking the lock easily and lifting the top. His eyes widen, spotting the ancient looking book. With gold lining on the edges of its pages and tattered red hardcover with the words' Bestiary written on it, he carefully takes out the magically enchanted book with a huge grin on his face, feeling like he's won the lottery.
Stiles settles down into a stray chair left at one of the tables, flipping through the old dusted pages he stops at lycanthropes, whiskey eyes running through the passage of it quickly. Eyes lingering onto the section describing how werewolves use people and objects as anchors to control their shifts during the full moon.
He takes out the pendant from his pocket and runs his hands along the Triskele swirls. He has seen this symbol before in herb shops, and on various magical items that he didn't dare touch for fear of the power behind them.
The Celtic symbols were powerful. He remembers Lydia explaining to him once about the multiple symbolisms behind each swirl like for example, Spirit, Mind, and Body. He runs a hand through his hair. So, maybe Derek uses the pendant as an anchor but why the Triskele of all things?
He sighs, flipping through the pages from the beginning as something else catches his attention. Nemeton. He reads quickly through the passage and gasps.
"Shit." Standing up quickly and holding up the pendant to the picture with the same symbol drawn on its page, eyes re-reading the tiny description written underneath the drawing in black print,
"Triskele, the crescent of the Nemeton and the Hale Guardians."
"The Hale Guardians? Wait…" His heart drops, slamming the book closed and quickly putting the book back in place before putting his hood up and practically running out of there. Panting, Stiles heart was beating out of his chest, hands clammy as he held onto the Triskele pendant for dear life. Going to the only place he knew best to get rid of the damn thing before he was killed.
He was practically hyperventilating by the time he makes it down his old road, feeling nauseous he passes the old abandoned houses in his neighborhood. Stopping in front of his dad's house, Stiles hesitates stalling looking it over boarded up, and grass overgrown from years left unattended, he gulps.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he forces himself to walk up the front porch. He kicks open the door, and steps inside. He gasps, looking around at the house he grew up in, exactly the same as when he had left. All the furniture was gone but the wallpaper and wall color were the same.
His heart races, running up the stairs two at a time, he approaches his dad's room, shaking hands gripping the old doorknob. He takes a deep breath, and swings open the door.
Standing in the doorway he looks at his dad's empty room, he sighs deeply. There was nothing there. No remembrance of his dad at all.
He forces himself to breathe out, squeezing his eyes shut he focuses on his breathing, taking one step at a time to his dad's closet. Stiles walks over to the loose wooden floorboard as he steps on the end and swiftly lifts the other end off, taking the pendant out of his pocket and putting it in the secret hiding place his Dad used to stash away his whiskey from his prying eyes.
Stiles runs out of the room, breath shallowing with every step, he barely makes it to the door. Once outside, he gasps, hands on his knees, he tries to force himself to breathe, the early signs of an anxiety attack thankfully numbed away with every breath of fresh air. Panting, Stiles looks around, heart speeding up at the thought of being watched. He hurriedly puts the door up and walks out of his old neighborhood.
He knew he was doing something extremely stupid but his curiosity always got the best of him. Walking up the stairs of his old high school, surprisingly still intact and well kept. Stiles walks the outside hallways, remembering exactly where his senior locker was, he makes it halfway there, turning the corner before stopping dead in his tracks.
Scott scoffs, smirking as he looks at Stiles amusingly.
"Dude, you just couldn't help yourself could you?" Scott says, grinning from ear to ear. He couldn't let Scott know where he was so he plays along like he'd been meaning to go there from the beginning.
"Yeah, yeah. Haha, McCall, you found me, happy?" Stiles says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in defeat.
"I know you better than anyone Stiles," Scott says, Stiles glares at him, knowing how much the alpha is getting off on finding him at their old senior lockers.
"Alright, so you found me. What are you going to do? Frisk me? Interrogate me? You know you're not going to get a word out of me right?" He says, giving Scott a pointed look. Scott unable to stop smiling shakes his head.
"No, of course not, that's why I brought back up." Scott puffs up his chest but before he's able to howl, Stiles runs inhumanly fast to cover Scott's mouth with his hand.
"Scott no!" He whispers harshly, eyes widening in horror. Scott laughs, taking Stiles's hand away he says,
"Then tell me where you put the pendant."
He huffs out a frustrated sigh, "No Scott! I can't, please…" he pleads, Scott quirks his eyebrows up,
"Stiles, what would you want with an old pendant anyway? It couldn't possibly benefit you in any way, what's so ever…" he laughs. Stiles forwards his brows in confusion.
"Uh, because it's shiny and sparkly Scott. Or maybe because it's my only chance of getting Derek back for blood bounding us for eternity!" Scott sighs deeply,
"Stiles, you know I'd never let anything happen to you. I made Derek swear. Taking Derek's anchor is a bad idea. The full moon is in two days…" Scott says sincerely but he huffs out a frustrated sigh,
"First of all, Derek's word literally means shit to me. Second of all, he almost fucking killed me and Lydia and he would've if I didn't…" He stops mid sentence as he blushes remembering how he deflected from the issue by shutting Derek off with his mouth.
Scott looks at him suspiciously, "If you didn't what?" Stiles squints at Scott's smirking face realizing the werewolf wanted to hear him say it out loud, he rolls his eyes as he huffs out a laugh.
"Well, what can I say, the Stilinski charm is undeniable." Scott laughs out loud, as Stiles continues, "And like I said before, he tricked Lydia and I! Our entire, immortal lives are at his disposal! So, until he comes up with a better plan to make an alliance with us, I will continue to make his life a living hell." He says with finality. Scott sighs again,
"I get it. But, why the talisman? It's useless to you right?" Scott asks looking at Stiles like a lost puppy.
He quirked his head, "You don't know... Do you?" Scott forwards his brows, looking at Stiles like he's crazy as he shakes his head slowly.
"Ha! Scotty he's been playing you! The Hales are the guardians of the Nemeton." Stiles emphasizes guardians with air quotation marks because well, Peter.
"What?" Scott asks, looking completely dumbfounded.
"Yeah, and guess what? The Hales are probably the only ones who know where the Nemeton is and that pendant that Derek claims to be his anchor is the key to putting Beacon Hills borders back up! How do I know this? Because his blood has been messing with my fucking mind! Causing not so sexy vivid dreams where I'm running from house fires and getting electrocuted by that damn tree!"
"The Hale fire!" Scott says in surprise.
He sighs deeply, "Yes Scott, and more importantly, Derek's been lying to you this whole time! He doesn't need us! He doesn't need anyone! He's been keeping this secret from everyone and manipulating us for his own benefit and I'll be damned if I let him continue to run Beacon Hills into the ground!" He practically yells, getting himself worked up. He clenches his hands trying to control his rage. Scott looks down at the floor deep in thought.
"Stiles, I can tell when someone's lying. I've known Derek for centuries. I would've heard it in his heartbeat, maybe he doesn't even know this himself?" Scott says. He scoffs,
"Yeah right, like he would chase me miles into Beacon Hills preserve and back, trying to rip my damn head off just for his anchor? I'm sure he's mastered the shift a long time ago. That talisman is the only thing keeping me from restoring Beacon Hills to its former glory. It's what my dad would've wanted. He spent his entire life trying to protect this town…" Scott studies his face and gulped, nodding he sighs,
"Yeah you're right, he would." Scott smiles sadly to himself as he continues, "Why don't you explain this to Derek? There has to be a reason why he's kept this hidden for so long. He's one of the most sincere people I know. If he's hiding something there has to be a legitimate reason…." Stiles grabs at his hair,
"What is it, Scott? Because I'm running out of explanations and if I don't start getting answers soon I'll be forced to retaliate …" Scott looks at him with concern, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he types something out and puts it back, looking at Stiles determinedly.
"I think I know someone who can help us."
Walking up to the small Vet clinic, Stiles arches his brow up at Scott as he holds the door out for him with a smirk on his face.
"Scotty this isn't exactly what I thought you had in mind…" He says, scratching at his nose as the smell of dog and god knows what else assaults his nose.
"Deaton!" Scott yells, running over and bear hugging the man before Stiles can get a good look at him. Wearing animal printed scrubs, a white coat, and glasses, Stiles doesn't recognize him at first until he takes off his glasses and smiles at Scott.
"Hey…I've seen you before," Stiles says, walking over to Scott and the doctor.
Dr. Deaton turns giving him a knowing look,
"Well, we never were formally introduced at your housewarming party. Dr. Alan Deaton. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stilinski." He quirks his eyebrow up at him suspiciously as they shake hands.
"You were talking to Derek that night…" Deaton smirks,
"Yes. I accompanied Derek that night along with his uncle Peter. Great guys, I've known the Hales for a long time." Stiles squints at Deaton in suspicion,
"Yeah, exactly how long are we talking here?" Deaton's smile widens,
"A while…" Deaton says the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, getting some major bad vibes from the doctor.
"Deaton is the pack's Druid Emissary. We've known each other for about 15 years?" Scott says, excitedly glancing back at the doctor who nods. "We met each other in the field when I was still a practicing Veterinarian in South Africa."
"Wait...my Scotty? The one who screams like a little girl when he sees a spider and baby talks to every animal like he was their long lost mother became a veterinarian in South Africa? Wow... That's so amazing! I'm so proud of you bro!" Stiles says in awe, as a flash of the 19 year old, asthmatic, virgin Scott crosses his mind compared to the man he has become.
Scott laughs, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, it's always been a passion of mine."
Deaton smiles, "Old best friends I see. Come now, my office is more private. I can tell we have a lot to talk about."
They follow Dr. Deaton back to his organized office. Sitting in the standard leather seats across from his desk, they sit side by side.
"So what can I help you with?" Deaton says, with a devious smirk on his face.
"Scott…" Stiles says, turning to look at him.
"Right, so we were wondering if you could tell us anything about the Nemeton and the Triskele hale pendant?" Scott says in a rush, Scott's nerves making him anxious.
Deaton smirks, "Ah yes, the Triskele symbol is the Hales family crescent, it's been in the Hale family for centuries and as for the Nemeton, the Hales were its sole protectors, until it was destroyed of course…"
"Wait what? The Nemeton was destroyed? I thought it was just cut down during the war?" Stiles says, interrupting.
"It was destroyed. The Nemeton after all was a beacon for supernatural creatures. During the war, it caused major tensions in town with the different supernatural beings, so it was destroyed and no one has seen it since. It's only with the magic of druids that the tree can ever be restored."
"The magic of druids? Well, then you can help us right?" He asks, looking between Deaton and Scott. Scott shrugs as Deaton clears his throat.
"I come from a long line of Druids but I'm afraid my magic alone is not enough to resurrect it. My family's powers were connected to the Nemeton and they weakened significantly when it was destroyed." He sighs deeply.
"Derek's never told me about this… Do you know why? " Scott asks hesitantly, the hurt evident in his brown eyes.
"No, sorry Scott. I wish I could be of some help. I'm surprised you didn't already know." Deaton looks at Scott with concern.
"Well Doc, last night I had some weird vivid dream of running from the Hale fire and the Nemeton. Somehow, I found myself placing the pendant into its trunk, and then all of a sudden I'm feeling this electrical charge run throughout my body. When I woke up, Derek was already busting down the doors, trying to get his hands on the damn thing. So I ran and here we are! I hope that's where your werewolf expertise comes in with some sort of explanation…" Stiles says, narrowing his eyes, annoyed and still suspicious that the doctor knows more than he's letting on.
"Really? Do you have it with you?" Deaton asks, eyes widening in interest.
He smirks, leaning back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the chair's armrest, "It's in my little secret hiding place.…"
Dr. Deaton nods, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him as he asks, "If you don't mind me asking," studying Stiles which makes him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.
"Are you bonded to Derek?" He blushes, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. Scott looks at him expectedly.
"Uh, yeah. Eternally blood bonded until death due us part. Not by choice by the way. Actually, I would really love to know more about that…" Deaton huffs out a laugh, which has Stiles feeling even more uncomfortable.
"His mother's going to kill him, don't you worry about that." He smirks as the doctor continues. "Scott, can you please tell Derek that he needs to meet with me right away?"
Scott nods quickly as Stiles braces himself for Deaton's words as the doctor sighs deeply,
"That might also be an explanation for the shared dreams between you. A Werewolf and Vampire blood bond is very risky and well….personal. One can't live without the other. It's a sacred bond of sacrifice and in your case...it'll last for eternity unless one of you die of course..."
He huffs out a laugh, "Unbelievable…" Scott, glances at him, his jaw tightening painfully before the true alpha quickly gets up and says,
"Thank you so much Deaton for meeting us on such short notice, you have been more than helpful." Deaton laughs, shaking his head, and reminding Scott to tell Derek about their meeting as he stands to shake their hands goodbye. Stiles storms out of the vet office, infuriated, mind already racing with a million ways to kill Derek.
Scott runs after him, walking in stride with him as he heads towards town.
"Stiles wait! Come on! He didn't mean it literally!" Scott says after him, as he feels his fangs elongate.
"No Scott! I told you, he's been planning this shit from the beginning! I knew I should've killed him when I had the chance! That fucking bastard!" He yells, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.
"Don't you trust me?" Scott says from behind him, he stops in his tracks as he shouts.
"Trust is earned Scott! I can't just magically hand it over!" The flash of hurt that crosses the true alphas face turns stone cold in an instant, eyes going hard as he says,
"Stiles, I did not isolate myself for 90 years and survive another 410 years to have you die on me. I did it because I knew you were still alive somewhere out there and I refused to let the universe fuck up my life more than it already has. You're my best friend Stiles. My brother. I'd never let anything happen to you." Scott says with his most sincere and sad puppy-eyed eyes, Stiles has ever witnessed to date.
He huffs out a frustrated sigh, grabbing at his hair. He should know better, his anger was directed at Derek, not Scott, this wasn't his fault. It was a lost cause fighting over the what ifs, especially since there were bigger matters at hand so he swallows and nods, his eyes downcast apologetically as he says,
"Yeah. Your right. Sorry. I love you too Scotty." Scott grins widely, bear hugging him, he picks him off the ground, spinning him around. Stiles laughs until Scott's pushing him away, both of them grinning at each other like a couple of dorks. Scott sighs happily, leading Stiles to his BMW R nine-T.
"Nice Bro!" Stiles says, running his hands against the metal handlebars.
Scott laughs, "Thanks dude, just wait until you see my collection back at home!"
He raises both brows in surprise, internally freaking out about how much Scott's life is still an enigma to him. Taking out his spare helmet, Scott hands it over to him. They both buckle up in their helmets and ride down the rest of the way to town. Scott takes them to a supposedly famous café place.
"Boyd and Erica are in there. Just follow my lead ok?" Scott says, pulling his helmet off as they get ready to go inside.
"Do you think they will believe us?" Stiles asks nerves setting in when he looks at the overly modern, clean designed café shop.
"Yeah, let's cross our fingers and hope that Boyd can talk Erica down. She's one of Derek's most faithful watchdogs right after his sisters of course. She's going to need some convincing." Stiles nods. Taking his phone out, he notices his phones blown up with texts and calls, sending a quick text of his own of his location to the clans' group messenger, he puts it back in his pocket and braces himself.
Walking over to the couple sitting at one of the back mini tables and stools, he feels Erica's eyes glaring daggers at him from across the table, he squirms awkwardly in his seat from under her intense gaze. Scott clears his throat.
"We can explain…" Scott says before Erica immediately interrupts,
"Tell me why Stilinski here, is still breathing?" Erica says, flashing her golden, werewolf eyes at him. He squints his eyes right back at her.
"Boyd?" Scott says helplessly. Boyd just smirked, arching his eyebrow up at Scott's helpless plea, he shakes his head. Scott sighs deeply,
"Ok great, so basically, the pendant we thought Stiles stole is actually…"
"Shhh," Erica says interrupting Scott again as he tightens his jaw clearly annoyed but is instantly perking up in his seat like a dog that just heard his owner's car door close from the driveway. Stiles eyes him with confusion, looking back at Erica who's smiling slyly at him but it's only then that his eyes widen with realization.
"Took you long enough," Erica says in greeting. Stiles stands suddenly from his seat, heart dropping as Derek briskly walks coolly to the café entrance.
He gasps, Scott looks back at him with wide eyes as he backs up from the table, hipster teens giving him the side eye as they move out of his way.
Of course, as soon as people see Derek walk in, some stare longingly but the smart ones look immediately away at seeing the alpha's furious face.
He struts in wearing his signature worn, Italian biker leather jacket, combat boots, white v-neck shirt, and tight black jeans. Oh no. Stiles closes his gaping mouth to scoff, scratching the back of his head roughly as he looks away for relief, his eyes burning from Derek's beautiful everything already.
"Derek…" Scott says standing up but the alpha ignores him, walking straight towards Stiles direction. He can't help but bite his lip, trying to suppress his fanged smirk as Derek's green fiery eyes stare him down. When Derek reaches him, he grabs Stiles's hand, which he reflectively snatches out of his grip.
"Stiles…" Derek warns under his breath, obviously not wanting to make a scene. Well it was too late for that he thinks, looking around at the café, the entire shop had gone silent and tensed as they both continue to glare at each other. After a beat, he sighs deeply, deciding the best option was to walk away, not wanting the rumor mill to start and give his clan a bad reputation so early in their reign over Beacon Hills.
He turns, walking casually with his hands in his red hoodie pockets, towards the back of the shop. Entering the hall, he walks past the busy swinging doors of the kitchen and to the end of the hall where the bathrooms are for some privacy. But right before he's able to reach up and push open the doors to the men's bathroom, his arm gets tugged back forcefully, forcing him to turn around.
Face to face with Derek now, the alphas red eyes glow in the dim lights of the hall, tugging him closer, their mouths now inches away as Derek leans in, intoxicating Stiles with his hypnotic amber scent. He pushes against Derek's chest, knowing all too well where this will lead if he lets Derek get his way but Derek's persistent, not budging in the slightest.
"Let me go!" His hand comes up to slap him before Derek's catching it in mid air in a steel tight grip.
"No." He growls back, leaning in again to capture Stiles lips. He is barely able to escape the lip brushing distance as he pushes again at Derek's chest, hissing with his fangs bared.
Derek snarls, grabbing the front of his maroon hoody and purposely pushing him back into the guy's bathroom. Stiles stumbles back as gracefully as a fawn learning to walk for the first time. He hisses, crouching down ready to attack, as Derek closes the swinging bathroom door from behind him.
Grabbing Derek he spins them around, slamming him back into the wall. The tiles crack and fall from the force of it but Derek just huffs out a laugh, like he was legitimately enjoying this. He's grabbing at Stiles again, but before he can bring their lips together, Stiles wraps his hand around Derek's throat, pulling his white t-shirt to the side and sinking his fangs into the meat of his neck.
"Fuck!" Derek says breathlessly. Expecting a fight, he bites down harder, hand tightening around his throat in case he tried to escape but instead he feels Derek relax. Frustrated and a little disappointed Stiles makes sure to tease him, sucking extra slowly and moaning loudly while each gulp of Derek's blood runs down his throat.
The alpha grabs onto his hips to thrust into him but Stiles uses his other hand he has around Derek's neck to pin him against the wall, enabling him from moving closer. Derek growls lowly in his ears.
He rolls his eyes, purposely making some blood drip from his mouth and down sloppily over Derek's white T-shirt. Making even filthier wet suctioning sounds with his mouth. The werewolf's hands reach down into his pants, squeezing painfully hard at his ass in retaliation. He moans loudly, as Derek's warm hands squeeze and continue kneading his ass.
The heat that's radiating off of Derek is insane, almost tempting enough to lean into but he resists.
He drinks his fill and when he's done, he makes sure to lick at the punctured, bloody marks on his neck until they're completely gone and healed. Vanishing in seconds from Derek's amazing werewolf healing abilities.
When Stiles leans back to wipe at his mouth, Derek's eyes are glazed over and looking like something straight out of a Vampire's wet-dream. He stares back at him through half lidded, red eyes and white blood stained shirt in a daze, probably from the loss of blood to his brain.
Stiles laughs, licking and savoring the last remnants of Derek's flesh on his fangs contently to himself with a job well done.
Walking back into the other wall, he watches the alpha pant, reaching down into his black jeans to adjust the mouthwatering impressive sized boner in his pants. Stiles takes his time appreciating its size for a moment, glad his fantasies of huge werewolf dick were right. God, if the werewolf fetish blogs he's read so far were right about knotting as well...
"You're going to pay for that," Derek says gruffly as he zips up his leather jacket over his blood soaked shirt. Stiles smile widens, tearing his eyes away from the very distracting ligament to look determinedly back into Derek's kaleidoscopic eyes.
"Bring it on, big boy. Show me what you got." The alpha smirks, surprisingly still able to walk despite the liters of blood missing from his body, he saunters over. Eyes dark and predatory, he grabs for Stiles's face, kissing him deeply, tongue forcefully pushing through Stiles's lips and licking into his mouth.
He groans, finally letting their bodies press together as Derek's warm hands squeeze the junction of his hips and thighs painfully hard. The sudden heat that rushes to his face at first seems like a normal bodily function before he realizes his entire body flushing with sensitivity as well, the need to cum unbearable.
Stiles pulls at the alpha's hair, as Derek moves away with a slick pop, mouths leaving a trail of saliva behind. Panting he fists Derek's leather jacket,
"You little shit!" Stiles yells, he pushes Derek away and runs out of the bathroom but halfway through the hallway, his vision swirls. He tries to walk, panting and shaking, skin already dripping with sweat. The werewolf grabs the back of his red hoodie to hold him upright, leaning in to whisper into his ear,
"You're not allowed to leave my side, Stiles. You hear me? If you touch yourself, I'll break your hand. If you run, you better run for your life because when I get my hands on you…" Derek huffs out a laugh that blows against his neck, making him shiver. "I'll fucking tear you apart."
He swallows hard and tenses as the werewolf runs his nose along the ridge of his neck, his eyes rolling back on their own accord from the contact. His intensified heightened senses and Derek were a deadly combination, leaving him ready to combust in his pants at any moment, his only salvation coming from the pain of biting his lip until he drew blood.
"Mm yeah Alpha, mark your territory." He whimpers, the words seemingly slipping out of his mouth as if his body's defenses were trying to salvage the last pieces of his sanity
"Shut up." The alpha says, sighing deeply but Stiles knows the words, "you brought this onto yourself" were what he really wanted to say and for once Stiles couldn't agree more. He knew from the moment Derek stepped through those doors that this would be the end result but the ease in which he lets himself be grabbed and lead through the crowded café was really what was more concerning.
Stiles squints his eyes, sunlight blinding as Derek pulls him along and sits him down next to Erica's side at the table. Scott gives him a concerned look, opening his mouth to say something but Derek holds up his hand to wait. The waiter comes over and asks Derek if he would like to order anything.
Stiles opens his mouth to make a sarcastic remark, probably along the lines of 'yeah like a new shirt', but shuts up instantly when Derek's clawed nails dig into his thigh. He gasps, wincing, he bites his already swollen lip hard to keep from yelling out in pain. The waiter eyes him with a judgmental glance. Derek clears his throat,
"Black for me and a glass of water. Thank you." Derek says, bluntly. The table watches the waiter leave before the entire table abruptly starts talking all at once.
Stiles's, "I think I'm going to faint…" Gets lost in the sea of voices or so he thinks before the pain is gone instantly, the alpha's claws re-tracking but still possessively holding onto his thigh. Derek sighs deeply,
"You guys have exactly 5 minutes to explain to me what's going on. Scott,"
"Dude, not cool. Look at him! He's about to pass out!" Scott says, looking at him with concern but Derek rolls his eyes.
"Ok, now you have three minutes. Now, what's. Going. On." Derek says angrily, hand clutching down on Stiles's already healed thigh. Stiles groans at the warmth from the werewolf's hands seeping into his hunter's pants, face blushing even more, he shifts in place, erection straining painfully hard in his briefs.
Scott huffs out a frustrated sigh, "We found out what that pendant really does Derek and that you've been keeping it a secret from us."
The alpha sighs out a frustrated breath, "Is that all?"
"I'll need to talk to you, later in private," Scott says, eyes cold, looking at Derek with betrayal.
"Understood. I'll need some time with him though. Maybe Friday night…" Derek says, Scott rolls his eyes. Stiles forwards his brows in confusion. Friday night was two days away, he gulps hard before croaking out,
"Friday night?" He shivers again, trying to control his body from shaking like a leaf, heart pounding in his chest at the werewolf's implication.
Trying desperately not to straddle Derek right there in the middle of the café. The thoughts alone make him spill an embarrassingly huge amount of pre-cum all over his boxers, which has the alpha stiffening and glancing down at the undoubtedly huge erection in his pants.
He shifts again, unable to keep still. Feeling eyes on him, he looks up at Erica whose sly smile widens. The waiter comes to give Derek his drinks. He puts the glass of water in front of Stiles, studying his face, which he's sure is flushed a deep red.
He knew Derek was just waiting for him to break and reach for that glass to cool himself off so he fists his hands, not giving in to the temptation. Erica laughs out loud,
"Damn, didn't think Stilinski had it in him." She leans in closer to whisper into his ear, "I bet you're just dying to cream your pants, isn't that right Stiles…"
In a flash, she's twisting painfully hard at his nipple through his hoody. He gasps, pushing her hand away, he huffs out breaths, his dick twitching uncontrollably, but he resists, groaning loudly he helplessly leans into the alpha's shoulder. Derek practically lunges at Erica. She yelps, laughing out loud, she leans away from his reach, hiding behind Boyd's arms.
"Hands off..." Derek practically snarls in a harsh whisper not wanting to draw attention before huffing out a frustrated breath. "The heat rooms are forbidden for the next 48 hours. Don't call or text me. I'm putting Boyd in charge. You need anything? Go to him."
With that Derek stands, hands clutching Stiles's maroon hoody from the back and pushing him through the crowd.
"Wait…Derek! Asshole!" Stiles yells, glancing back at Scott's concerned face for one last time before the alpha's pushing him through the doors. The air outside allowing him to cool down a bit as he says,
"Push me again and I swear I'll drag your little werewolf ass…" Stiles says but Derek's hand is coming up to cover his mouth in an instant.
"Shut. Up. Stiles." Derek says through gritted teeth. He smirks, ripping his hand off from over his mouth, he leans in and whispers into Derek's ear.
"Wouldn't want your little werewolf secret getting out now, would we? I can have your secret exposed in a matter of seconds across the entire supernatural realm. Do not push me," he spits. He grinds into the alphas thighs for an extra fuck you gesture but it goes unnoticed as Derek grabs him by the collar of his hoody.
"You need me to survive Stiles, which is why if I go down, you go down too. " Derek says, flashing his alpha red eyes at him in anger. He shrugs.
"I've died countless times, what's one more time to me huh? Why don't we just speed up this whole sacrifice blood bond thing and end it, right here, right now?" Stiles gulps, bracing himself as he waits for the answer to the questions he's been meaning to ask since the emissary visit with Dr. Deaton but of course with Stiles luck, a clear cut explanation would be far too merciful.
Derek rolls his eyes, "It's that easy for you, isn't it? To throw everything away without a care in the world. Well, I refuse to make it easier for you Stiles…" Brushing their lips together, Stiles breathlessly inhales, lashes fluttering closed momentarily to breathe in the alpha's scent before coming back to his senses and moving back slightly in the tight space between them. Naturally, as soon as he tries to move away, Derek's possessively bringing him in by the waist, aligning their bodies sinfully.
"You're all mine now...Do you understand? Mine. You're coming with me and I will show you just what there is to live for…" The alpha says lowly, pupil blown eyes, staring back into his black soul. He smirks slyly, rolling his eyes at the werewolf's smoldering gaze.
Stiles knows he should say no, he really, really , should say no but gosh... how could someone resist that face?
Stiles internally curses at his weak impulse control, just one of the many Stilinski traits he's inherited from his father. John's love for high cholesterol, heart attack waiting to happen fast food addictions has passed down to his son, morphing into a deadly compulsive need for tall, dark, and handsome werewolf meat, and right now Derek is looking like the juiciest, straight off the grill, oozing with cheese with curly fries, mouth watering burger, open for the taking and Stiles is just a man ok!
Plus he'll be the first to admit that he's a greedy little shit who will willingly throw himself into less than favorable situations in the off chance that Stiles junior in his pants will be rewarded.
So what he says in the following seconds was spoken from the needs of his nether regions and nothing else. Also, anyone who's ever denied that guys don't think with their dicks were so wrong, so, so very wrong.
"That's highly unlikely but I can't say I'm opposed to the idea of you trying to convince me..." He says a little delirious from the loss of blood to his brain. Derek huffs out a frustrated sigh, grabbing his hand and walking them over to his black Chevrolet Camaro zl1.
"Fuck me…" Stiles says, breathlessly at the car.
"Soon," Derek says, before shoving him into the passenger side and getting into the driver's seat. The alpha pulls out of the parking lot without even looking back, putting the car into drive they speed down the road leading into the preserve.
The whole car ride thick with sexual tension as Stiles adjusts himself about a million times due to his thoughts being consumed with what the werewolf was about to do to him. The overwhelming smell of Derek inside his car, driving his dirty thoughts wild.
Staring at Derek as he switched the shift to different gears did nothing to help, licking his lips, he imagines Derek's hand around his dick, calloused hands, rough against his skin, pumping him so tightly and just right over his tip...
Swallowing hard, he glances down at his erection, painfully hard and obvious in his pants. Stiles glances back at Derek making sure his eyes were on the road before slowly reaching over to tug at it but in an instant, his hand gets slapped away.
"Don't," Derek demands, glancing at him quickly with a death glare and then returning his gaze back towards the road.
"Watch me." Stiles retorts, pumping at his dick through his pants as he falls back against his seat, closing his eyes, he moans loudly, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy.
Derek growls, reaching over and grabbing at his hand, practically swerving off the road.
"Ow! Stop, Stop! That's my dick!" He practically yells as Derek sighs and lets go.
"Oh my god! You're insane!" He winces, curling up into a fetal position in his seat.
"You asked for it," The alpha growls, his hands tightening around the steering wheel.
Stiles gasps in outrage before listing off a million reasons why Derek's insane as Derek continues driving but the werewolf's mouth eventually starts quirking up in amusement so Stiles huffs out a laugh in disbelief.
"You know what? Screw you! Why don't you just call that little one night stand you had the other night because you're not getting any of this!" He says, huffing in frustration and crossing his arms over his chest as they pull into Derek's driveway.
Parking, Derek walks out silently, ripping open the passenger door, he throws a protesting Stiles over his shoulder, walking them inside and down to the basement in extraordinary timing. Stiles only gets glimpses of metal doors passing them by before Derek's opening the one at the end of the hallway and throwing him again onto the bed from across the room.
Locking the door behind him, the alpha types in a complicated security code into the keypad on the steel door before turning around and stalking towards him over on the bed.
He sits up quickly, trying to suppress his arousal from being manhandled. No one's ever been able to pick him up so easily. It would be so fucking hot if it weren't so humiliating. Gulping hard, he glares at Derek, trying to recover some of his dignity.
"Did you think I forgot about her? Huh? And fuck, stop looking at me like that! I know you're trying to distract me from telling me the truth about the pendant!" The werewolf smirks, narrowing his searing gaze at him.
"That one night stand you keep mentioning is one of my best friends, Branden. Who happened to be there at Nyx, that night under my orders to keep an eye on you in case you did anything stupid. Making out with another guy aside. Stealing that pendant was on another level of stupid I didn't know existed." Stiles blushes deeply. Damn it. Jealous Derek was even hotter than he could've imagined and no one should look that hot angry! What did Stiles do to deserve this torture!
He dramatically flails his arms towards the alphas general direction as he says,
"You're lecturing me? First, you blood bound us for eternity, then you send someone to spy on me? Should I be concerned about your level of obsession because this is seriously starting to get out of hand!" Derek smiles, a real broad smile that has Stiles heart flipping while simultaneously questioning his sanity for always picking the insanely gorgeous, torturing, slightly psychotic ones.
Shaking his head from what Stiles assumes is the private conversation Derek's having with himself, probably about how much joy he's getting from seeing Stiles suffer from refusing to include him. The alpha slides his leather jacket from his broad shoulders and flings it forcefully onto the comfy looking couch.
"Don't you get it? This alliance was made to ensure we both stuck to our sides of the deal! You keep our species secret and we can protect you from the town's council who would've had your Vampire clan killed if it wasn't for us!"
"Whoa! Whoa. Slow down werewolf. What council? And look my clan never wanted or needed your protection! We can take care of ourselves!" Derek snorts actually snorts at the thought and frankly, Stiles is offended.
"You have no idea what the town's council is capable of. What hides in the shadows of this town are beyond your greatest nightmares. Trust me, I've seen it with my own eyes."
Stiles flails with his whole body, trying to emphasize his outrage as best he can when he says,
"Then why hide the pendant! Why not use it to restore Beacon Hills borders? You're the Hale Guardians!" Derek sighs deeply, running his hand through his ink black hair roughly, he takes off his blood soaked shirt in one swift motion, leaving Stiles gaping as his eyes drink up their fill of the werewolf's amazing muscled torso.
"Don't you think I would if I knew how? That pendant is the only object left with the Nemetons power still inside. That dream you had last night has been the same recurring dream I've had for the last decade and each night I try to deceiver what it means and come up empty handed every time." Derek looks down in concentration as he continues,
"Which is why I can't let you go. Until you tell me where it is." Derek says, looking up at Stiles with alpha red eyes. He reaches into his black jean pockets to retrieve leather, finger-less gloves. Slipping them on, he smirks, looking back at Stiles from under his lashes, and adds with an innocent tone, "Now which one do you prefer, the whip or the paddle?"