Hello, sorry for the hiatus, but I am unreliable and horrible. In this chapter, there's going to be the performance of a song called I Know I'm The Wolf by Young Heretics, if you want to listen to it for atmospheric reasons.
Derek and Stiles went to the Treehouse so often, they befriended the red-head who had served them on their first date. Her name was Sienna, she was studying philosophy and literature at the local college, and she and her girlfriend Emma were opening a tattoo parlor together in the fall.
She was almost always there because she picked up so many shifts. Stiles admired that she worked so often for what she wanted. Stiles always made sure they left a generous tip because Sienna and Emma were living paycheck to paycheck as they paid off the loans and such for their new business.
During one of their many three-way conversations, Sienna discovered that Stiles could sing. He still wasn't completely sure how that had come up. She bothered him every day she saw him since then to perform during one of their Open Mic nights. He agreed, relatively confident that there wouldn't be room, seeing as the Mic queue was normally packed tighter than a can of sardines.
Using whatever black magic she possessed, Sienna managed to find an opening, which is why Stiles was currently freaking out as they walked up to the obscure coffee shop. Derek was beside him and had a smirk plastered on his stupidly attractive face.
"Oh no! Gravity is increasing on me." Stiles cried, pitching himself forward under the pretty safe assumption that Derek wouldn't actually let him fall on his face.
"No, it isn't." He was safely back on his feet, but as Derek started walking again, Stiles sagged against him dramatically.
"Yes it is, Derek. The same thing happened yesterday." Stiles blinked owlishly up at the sky, body limp in Derek's arms. His perfect jaw line and eyes crowded Stiles's vision, blocking his view of the stars.
"You watch Lilo and Stitch too often." Derek laughed.
"It is the best disney movie. It has cross-dressing, cuteness, and aliens. What more could you want from an animated movie for kids?"
Derek pushed Stiles upright and forward so he was forced to either use his legs or faceplant.
"I've suddenly come down with laryngitis and can't perform tonight?" He tried, weakly.
"Yeah, no. It's not going to work." Derek laughed. "Even if I wanted to let you out of it, Sienna would never forgive me. She'd probably coerce us into dressing in drag and doing the hula."
Stiles was bolstered by the idea of Derek watching the Lion King as he warily pushed open the door to the shop.
Sienna was waiting for them in the back, avoiding her manager in order to talk to them. "Do you have your song ready?" She asked.
Stiles sighed. "Yeah, and there's a pianist, right? I'm gonna feel like an idiot if I stand up there alone with no accompaniment."
"Yeah, yeah. I've got it all worked out. You just need to go up there and do your thing." She assured him. She waved over a small mousy girl who carried some sheet music and a shy smile. She introduced herself as Melanie. Derek kissed him before the two girls swept him away.
"And there's no way to get out of this?"
"Nope." She said as she ushered him to the wide window and the platform in front of it.
"You remind me of another certain conniving vixen. She's strawberry blonde though." Stiles told her as he eyed the man who was currently on stage, crooning into the microphone as he strummed an acoustic.
"Hm, she sounds hot."
"Don't let Emma hear you say that." Stiles grinned at her.
She rolled her eyes as the guy stepped off the make-shift stage and rejoined the crowd. Stiles gathered up his courage and stepped up, attempting to keep the flailing to a minimum as the pianist followed suit. He walked up to the microphone and blinked at the crowd a few times before clearing his throat.
"Hi, I'm Stiles and I was coerced into doing this by the lovely Sienna who is evil." He raised a hand to acknowledge her and she laughed. So did a few people in the crowd. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my boyfriend, Derek.
And yes, I realize the irony of my selection."
It wasn't something he expected the audience at large to understand, more of a joke he had with himself when he chose the song. Derek would get it soon too.
He nodded to Melanie who began to play the beginning with deliberate slowness. Stiles counted off before he started to sing.
Dear rabbit my legs are getting weak chasing you.
The snow fields wouldn't seem so big if you knew
That this blood on my teeth, it is far beyond dry
And I've captured you once, but I wasn't quite right
So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me.
Stiles's haunting voice fell over the coffee shop like a spell. He didn't know it, but he was enchanting as he stood up there, one hand on the mike stand, the other barely grazing the microphone itself.
Yes, I know I'm a wolf and I've been known to bite,
But the rest of my pack I have left them behind.
And my teeth may be sharp and I've been raised to kill,
But the thought of fresh meat it is making me ill.
So I'm telling you that you'll be safe with me.
As the song climaxed, he raised his hands and ran them over his head, as if in desperation. There was a break in the music and he stopped for dramatic effect, looking into the audience with a look bolder than he felt. He saw red eyes flash in the back and he twitched his fingers so Melanie would carry on.
So rabbit please stop looking the other way.
It's cold out there so why not stay here
Under my tail.
His quiet voice trailed off and the audience seemed to come out of a daze. They applauded at a volume that shocked Stiles. They actually liked it… There were even a few catcalls and wolf-whistles. Derek made his way to the front and after acknowledging Melanie and thanking her, he hopped down into the werewolf's embrace.
"That was great." Derek murmured against his collar bone. "And I enjoyed the irony of your choice."
Stiles laughed and pulled him to the door before Sienna could get to them. He waved at her through the window, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue when she smirked at him. Stiles turned and looked around conspicuously.
"What are you doing?" Derek eyed him.
Stiles looked at him through his lashes and tried not to smile. He pushed at Derek's broad arms, surprised when he yielded and allowed Stiles to man-handle him back to the wall of the Treehouse.
Out of the view of passersby, Stiles cupped Derek's neck and kissed him roughly. Derek made a small noise of surprise—how he could be surprised, Stiles didn't know. He practically announced his intentions with fanfare. Derek's hand snagged his waist and pulled him closer, and Stiles found himself very suddenly and painfully hard as he collided with the solidity that was Derek Hale's body.
Stiles's hips stuttered unsteadily when Derek's mouth rediscovered his jaw line and were those teeth? He—oh—yes, those were teeth. Those were definitely teeth running gently over the length of his neck. Derek snuffled along his pulse point and left wet trails that cooled in the night air and gave him goosebumps. As Derek started to suck a hickey, Stiles remembered that he was supposed to be taking control of this kiss. That's how it started, how did he end up like this—
That wasn't important. What was important was Stiles tangling his fingers in Derek's hair and yanking his head to the side so he could attack it with his mouth. The noise Derek made was filthy and his entire body arched forward into Stiles, who smirked and bit Derek lightly. Derek moaned brokenly and the noise went straight to Stiles's dick. He rolled his hips forward as he trailed a tongue down to taste the sweat beading on Derek's collarbone.
Stiles hooked his hands into Derek's waistband, with full intentions of pulling them off and blowing him then and there, but Derek gripped his wrists and pulled him off.
"Wha—" Stiles protested.
"Not in a fucking dark alley, Stiles. You're too classy for that." Derek said, eyes twinkling a little.
"No, I'm not." He argued.
"Yes, you are." Derek took his hand and walked with him back to the Jeep. "Besides, people always die in the dark alley in horror movies."
"Yeah, horror movies. Not reality. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm dating a werewolf." Stiles climbed into the driver's seat. "It's freaky supernatural things like you that kill the people in the alley."
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He pulled up to the mechanic and parked swiftly, trying to extricate himself gracefully. He ended up stumbling a bit and cursing a bit more. He looked around at the patriotic decorations with slight annoyance. He never seemed to appreciate the Fourth of July like everyone else. He liked the food and the fireworks, but that was about it.
"Hey, Der-Bear." Stiles called, knowing it would annoy him if his coworkers heard the nickname he reserved only for embarrassing situations.
"There's no one else here; there's no point in trying to embarrass me." Derek said, stepping from around a corner.
"Ookay, why is no one else here?" Stiles stuttered to a halt. He stared at Derek who was in a white tank smattered with car oil. The flimsy fabric clung to his body quite nicely and Stiles shamelessly checked him out. His hands, man, his hands.
Derek raised an amused eyebrow. "We're actually closed today. Everyone is out doing celebrating this pointless holiday."
Ah. "Speaking of this pointless holiday—thank you for the segway—what are you doing this evening?"
"I have no plans. And I don't really planning on doing anything a douchebag rightwing would, either." Derek said, wiping his hands on a stained rag.
Stiles was slightly taken aback. He was no big fan of the commercialization that had taken over a majority of holidays in modern society, like Valentine's day, really? And he didn't especially love the Fourth of July; honestly, it just reminded him of lighting sparklers in the back yard with his mom and her soft smile—Stiles pushed that thought away. In any case, he hadn't expected Derek to be so adamant about it.
"That's fine." Stiles said slowly, unsure of what to say.
There was a moment of silence and Derek looked at his feet. "I don't like fireworks." He allowed.
The pieces clicked. Fireworks. Fireworks. Not to mention it was a day when families came together. Way to rub it in his face.
To mask the dawning comprehension, Stiles shrugged. "They have ceased to impress me anyways." He moved closer to Derek, "So how about an evening just the two of us?"
"What would you have in mind?" He reached out and grabbed Stiles's waist, pulling him closer.
"Uh, us alone was the extent of my thinking, to be honest." Stiles confessed.
"How about dinner and a movie? There are some good ones out right now." Derek suggested.
"I don't want to go out; how about dinner at your place?"
That's how they ended up at the Pack House, after cleaning up boxes of Thai food, crashed on the couch, neither quite bored enough to get up and put on a movie. So what happens when one is on a couch in close proximity to a Derek Hale in a darkened room?
Kissing. Duh.
Stiles pulled Derek over him like a blanket, seeking his warmth and his mouth. He could feel the smile against his lips when he gripped Derek's arms and moved with his body. Muscles bunched under his fingers as Derek held himself above Stiles, resting on his elbows so their bodies were crushed together but it wasn't painful.
Stiles was bunching his hand under Derek's shirt when he recoiled, head in hands. Stiles sat up, following him, confused. Derek was covering his ears, face scrunched in discomfort. Unable to hear anything but his own breath in his ears, Stiles calmed himself and strained his ears for what Derek was hearing. The faint popping of fireworks.
Fireworks.
Damn them, interrupting his sexy time.
"This is another reason I don't like fireworks." Derek spit through gritted teeth.
"I can see that." Stiles said in an attempt to stay calm. Werewolf hearing probably made the explosions deafening. "Uh, what do you normally do…?" It's not like he could just turn them off.
"I usually go down into the cellar first."
"Okay." Stiles pulled Derek up off the couch and guided him downstairs. It was cool and dark, save for some moonlight streaming in from a few windows high on the walls. There was a bed and another couch and a TV. "And then?"
"Try to distract myself." Derek had already dropped his hands, but his face was still faintly stressed. And Stiles was getting an idea.
An awesome idea.
He pushed at Derek until he crashed down on the bed. Stiles followed him, crawling up his body to kiss him. His legs were on either side of Derek's body and he could feel that Derek was still kind of hard.
Good.
Stiles's hands went back to caressing Derek's taut stomach under his shirt. Stiles pulled the fabric up and off, kissing his way down Derek's neck as soon as it was out of the way. Remembering the other night in an alley outside the Treehouse, Stiles bit the apex of Derek's neck and shoulder. He keened and arched off the bed.
Stiles nearly came in his pants.
Because loud, sex-noise Derek was almost too much.
Almost.
Stiles grinned against his clavicle as he sucked hickeys into his neck and down his chest. He trailed his lips down to his ribs and left a bruise there and another above the line of his pants. Stiles ran his tongue along the defined V shape that ran into Derek's pants. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, biting down wherever his teeth could find purchase.
Derek moaned again, and Stiles looked up at him. Red eyes flashed in the dark, Derek's hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. His head dropped to the bed as Stiles ran his tongue under the hem of Derek's jeans. Stiles unbuttoned and unzipped his pants without him even noticing. It wasn't until he began dragging them down his legs did Derek look back down.
He looked like he was about to protest, but all that came out of his swollen mouth was a faint "hnng" noise. Stiles decided not to pay attention to that as he hauled Derek's boxer briefs out of the way. Then he just stared a little bit.
He wasn't quite sure what to do when faced—literally—with a dick. Especially Derek Hale's dick. He reached up and ran his hand along the shaft experimentally. Touching someone else's junk wasn't that much different than touching your own, right? His hand had stilled and Derek made a needy noise in the back of his throat.
So he let his imagination and extensive memory of porn take over.
He lapped at the head with the flat of his tongue, taking inventory of the way Derek's breath whooshed out of his mouth and he gasped for air. It was kind of bitter, but not unpleasant. Stiles mouthed along the shaft, scraping very gently with his teeth. We wrapped his tongue along the bottom suckling gently, hand cupping Derek's balls.
The precum dripped down to his mouth and he used his hand to spread the moisture. Stiles dragged his tongue up and over the head again. Derek wimpered—whimpered!—as Stiles sucked the tip into his mouth. He slid his tongue around the top, and heard Derek's claws puncture the mattress. He laughed softly—careful of the dick in his mouth, of course—and slowly opened his mouth to take more in.
With one hand pumping, Stiles snaked his other hand into his pants. This was turning him on a little more than he cared to admit. Who gets off on this? Oh yeah, me. He pushed himself a little when he felt his throat muscles clenching around the head. He had been blessed with no gag reflex, but he never realized the use he could put it to.
"Oh god, how are you even doing that?" Derek's voice was hoarse and barely coherent. His hand—claws free, thank you very much—came to cup the back of Stiles's head and tangle a bit in his hair. Derek stared in awe, but didn't force him down. Stiles was grateful for that, not completely sure how far he could go before choking and dying. He looked up at Derek, who groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.
Stiles, who had found his limit, pulled back and began moving his head up and down slowly. His jaw was aching, but he tried to remember the elements of blowjobs. He wiggled his tongue and created a vacuum in his mouth, hoping that would be enough.
Apparently it was. Derek grunted a bit and his hands tightened fractionally in Stiles's hair. And Stiles moaned because apparently that was a yes! thing. He could tell Derek was straining to not thrust upwards, but honestly, he wouldn't have minded. He pulled his hand out of his pants and brought it up with his other, stroking firmly as Derek panted and made noises that drove Stiles out of his goddamned mind.
Derek tapped his throat—to give him warning, Stiles guessed—but he didn't pull off. He kept going at it until Derek came with a breathy groan. That was basically it for Stiles, whose brain short-circuited and body decided coming in your pants was totally okay.
Stiles licked his lips and joined Derek, who pulled him into a deep kiss that made him forget about the discomfort of semen in the pants. They sat there for a minute, breathing heavily, and in the distance Stiles heard the sporadic and chaotic popping of the fireworks finale.
"Dude, if that finale happened a few minutes ago, it would have been totally bizarre." Stiles commented.
Derek laughed loudly in the dark before pulling Stiles to his feet. "Let's get you some pants to change into."
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Stiles was staring.
He knew exactly what he was going, but he couldn't help it.
Erica had a scarred bite mark on her shoulder.
And he was pretty sure he had never seen any of the wolves with scars like those.
Scars, for sure. But not ones as vivid as that or as new.
And Stiles knew that one was recent, because it hadn't been there three days ago.
After gaping for a few minutes he walked over to where she and Isaac were wrapped in each other, watching TV on the couch.
He stood there until they looked up, Erica sighing slightly and muting whatever they were watching. She acted annoyed, but he could see a small smile on her lips.
"Can I help you?" She asked.
"What's with the bite mark?"
She smiled like she had a secret and looked at Isaac, who smirked back at her. Stiles was lost.
"What?"
"Isaac gave it to me." She said vaguely.
"Why would he—wait, why did it scar? Normal people scar. You wolfy people with your wolfy powers get out of that little inconvenience."
She looked at Isaac again, her expression changed. They were having a silent conversation. She quirked her lips and he raised his eyebrows. She frowned and he shrugged.
"Uh. well? I don't understand your silent supernatural speak."
"Derek hasn't told you… I'm not sure we should." Isaac was being serious, his face betrayed no joking or sarcasm. "It's kind of personal."
"Yeah," Erica said, still looking at him. "But he's going to need to know. It's going to be pertinent to their relationship. And I don't think Derek has the balls to tell him."
Stiles swallowed his snarky retort. "Still in the dark here."
Erica looked at him and sighed. "Isaac and I are a mated pair. Don't make that face, you asked." She rolled her eyes at him. "We're life mates, kind of like soul mates. It's pretty corny, actually. But being bitten by your life mate during sex is like werewolf marriage."
"It would have been nice to know before the fact, even though it wouldn't have changed anything." Isaac added, shrugging his shirt away from his arm to show Stiles his own scarred bite. "We didn't even notice when we did it, not until the next morning."
"Huh." Stiles looked between the two. He was burning with questions. Was Derek his life mate? Does it even work with a human in the equation? What happens if they aren't soul mates or whatever? Will Derek leave him? And what if they are? Would the biting still happen? Would that mean they'd be gay werewolf married? Would the bite turn him? He filed away his questions, pretty sure that he didn't want to have that conversation with Erica or Isaac.
"Huh." He said again and left the pack house and driving home so he could look some more of this stuff up. On the ride home, he decided he wouldn't ask Derek yet. He'd wait. They weren't even in that stage of their relationship yet. They'd only just got to third base a few days ago…
Yeah, he was going to wait.
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A/N: Just a warning, the next chapter is going to be an emotional one. And you know it will be because it will be from Derek's perspective. Brace yourselves.