Derek woke up first and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Stiles. The younger Alpha was curled up next to him, his face snuffling into Derek's shoulder and his mouth open in a small 'o'. Looking at him like that, he looked far too young and far too innocent to be an Alpha. He looked too much so to even be a werewolf. Seeing Stiles asleep was like all the previous years had never happened, it reminded Derek of the moments when he'd stopped by to check on Stiles after an incident, creeping into Stiles' room to check on him. Stiles was almost always awake during those visits, but there were the occasional times when he'd just seemed to crash and was curled up asleep when Derek found him.

He kept his head turned towards Stiles, knowing that if he was awake he'd call Derek a creeper or something for watching him sleep. But he can't help it. He really can't. Stiles has a gentle sort of look about his features, but Derek has never quite been able to place what it is that makes him look so sweet. Sometimes he thinks it's the slant of Stiles' cheekbones, other times he's just about positive that it has to be how wide those brown eyes are, maybe even the thick lashes surrounding them. The majority of the time though his thoughts get stuck on that mouth. That stupid, quirky cupid bow's mouth.

And of course when he started thinking about it, his thoughts get a whole lot less innocent.

He used to drive himself mad with thoughts of that mouth, probably only hurting himself all the more with each accompanying thought that said, you can never have this. He thought of how those lips would feel stretched around his cock. He thought of what they would look like red and swollen, kiss swollen rather and red because Derek had been biting at them. It had always been kissing that had gotten Derek off faster than anything when fantasising about Stiles. He didn't know why, he thought maybe it was because there was just something about Stiles' mouth, but probably more because he'd always thought that maybe just a kiss would be something he could get. Something he could allow himself eventually.

He used to dream up how he could get away with kissing Stiles. If he could make it happen in a stupid game of spin the bottle he sometimes caught the teenagers playing – but then of course he would have had to involve himself in those games and he'd always made it clear he was against those. He thought he could at Christmas maybe, that he could let Lydia put up a sprig of mistletoe and maybe sneak a kiss in with Stiles. Because of course there would be no way that Lydia or Allison would let anyone get away with standing underneath mistletoe and not kissing. Except, that kiss would be just a peck, it would be too short. He just knew it would. It wouldn't be enough and would only leave him wanting more.

Because that was the other thing he used to tell himself. He used to tell himself that one kiss with Stiles would be enough to last him a lifetime. He probably should have always known he'd be wrong, that he was lying to himself about that one too.

There is nothing quite like kissing Stiles. It isn't anything like Derek imagined it – and like a teenage girl he imagined it so many different ways – but then he was glad for that because it was even better. Stiles' skin had always felt a little cold to him, even now he was a werewolf and should have run hot; but in comparison Stiles' mouth was burning. Practically scalding.

His lips were soft and pliant under Derek's, moulding to fit against his perfectly, but Stiles' tongue was hot and fierce and domineering. It was always pushing against Derek's, challenging his and taking control in a way that Derek didn't think Stiles would do in a kiss. When Derek bit him, Stiles bit right back. When Derek pushed, Stiles gave more, came at him in a new way that left Derek reeling. But at the same time he could be soft and sweet and lazy, letting Derek take the ropes. And yes, he always got that sense that Stiles was letting him lead. It was baffling.

But that wasn't even half the reason.

More than how it felt, there was the taste. Amplified by his werewolf senses, the kiss was different in a way that a human could never appreciate. Each one left a taste in Derek's mouth that was a combination of mint and normally chocolate and then whatever the hell Stiles had recently eaten. But slamming all of that right down was just that pure taste of Stiles. It clung to Derek's tastebuds, lingering there for long after the kiss ended and it was the most addictive thing that Derek had ever tasted.

And then there was how responsive Stiles was. The small moans he let out when Derek sucked on his tongue. The way his fingers would wind into Derek's hair or trace his tattoo through the back of his shirt, following the spirals blindly and letting Derek know he'd memorised them long ago. It's the way Stiles feels pressed against him, the way that Stiles holds his face sometimes and the way that he looks at Derek afterwards, breathless and almost dopey-looking, but so damn fucking perfect it's unfair.

There would never have been any chance of Derek letting Stiles go if that had happened when they were teenagers. If he'd looked at Derek like that even once, he would have never let Stiles go. And sometimes he wished that he'd just sucked it up and done it, because then they would have had so many years by now, but he also isn't sure if Stiles being able to kiss like that is something that's been inbuilt from the beginning or if it's from practice over the years. Perfecting the technique.

Then again, Derek doesn't want to think about that. Because then he has to think about the fact he gave up all of Stiles firsts when he could have had them. He could have been Stiles first kiss, could have had his virginity and been the first one Stiles wrapped his lips around the cock of. But he gave that up! He shied away and handed it over to someone else, to someone who wouldn't have appreciated it like Derek would have done.

He doesn't like thinking about that though, so he just tells himself that having these firsts just between them now are enough. And if that isn't, well then knowing that they have the future ahead of them is definitely plenty. Other people didn't get that, but Derek is going to have it even if it kills him.

He wasn't giving up Stiles again. Wasn't going to let him go. Not without a fight at least.

"Creeper," Stiles breathed out when those wide doe-like eyes fluttered open to see Derek staring at him. The blush that rose on his cheeks though, that spread down his neck slightly belied his words, which was all Derek needed to be happy. "You could be Edward Cullen, you know that right?" he asked, his voice sleepy and lazy-sounding, but it was always good to know that nothing would ever completely change Stiles' lack of filter and his need to talk, "Except that would make me Bella in this situation and I kind of would rather not be."

"Why not?" Derek asked, smirking and pressing closer. Or rather reaching out and dragging Stiles closer via an arm thrown over his waist. He left it there afterwards, tracing patterns on Stiles' lower back, straying slowly down towards the swell of his ass.

He wondered how long it would take Stiles to notice.

Stiles snorted, the sound loud in the quiet of the bedroom, indignant.

"Maybe because I'm a hell of a lot smarter for one," he replied, his expression daring Derek to argue with that, "And hello dude, I'm not a chick."

Derek wondered whether it was because Stiles was still half asleep or if he was genuinely just that oblivious that was the reason the other werewolf didn't notice at all when Derek reached an arm behind him to grab the lube off the bedside table. He set it behind Stiles and then noticed that he was staring at his mouth, which probably had more to do with the reason for Stiles being oblivious.

He smirked again, raising an eyebrow at Stiles in a silent form of communication. One Stiles obviously understood if the way he rolled his eyes and huffed was any indication, but nevertheless he was the one to close the distance, pressing his mouth to Derek's. The angle was a little awkward because by this point Stiles was almost completely on his front, half-lying on Derek and craning his neck to cover the space between their faces. Derek helped by worming an arm underneath Stiles and pulling him ever closer, using the kiss as an easy distraction so that he could slick his fingers up with lube behind Stiles' back.

He almost wanted to laugh – sort of did – at the way Stiles jumped when he slid slippery fingers between Stiles' cheeks. He swallowed Stiles' low moan as Derek traced the entrance to his body, just teasing, applying just enough pressure to drive the younger Alpha insane. He splayed his other hand flat against the bottom of Stiles back, turning him more onto his side so that it was a less awkward angle.

Stiles wound his own arms around Derek's neck, pushing his fingers into the bottom of Derek's hair. His cock was a hard bar of heat against Derek's stomach and he could feel Stiles thrusting slightly against the ridges of his abs, trying to strain for friction at the same time as not moving too far away from Derek's fingers. It made Derek smile into the ongoing kiss before skimming his lips down across Stiles' jaw.

He knew that he was probably giving his mate beard burn as rubbed their cheeks together briefly, but werewolf healing solved the problem. It was weird though, because back when he'd first thought about how all of this would play out, he'd always imagined how Stiles would look with beard burn, he'd always imagined that he'd suck hickey's up along the pale column of Stiles' throat. It disappointed him in a way that the marks would never stick now.

"Derek," Stiles gasped out right into his ear when he finally eased the tip of his finger just inside of Stiles' hole. It was almost enough to make him come right then, feeling how tight it was, how warm. He just knew that it was going to be his undoing.

Strangely enough, he was okay with that. More than okay in fact.

"Derek," his voice was practically a keen when Derek pressed his finger in further. Stiles arched against him and tried to press back all at the same time. It almost made Derek want to put him out of his misery and reach between them, to stroke Stiles' cock just lazily, just once or twice to give him to friction he wanted. He didn't of course, because he didn't want this to end that quickly.

He wanted to make this last forever even if he knew that he was bound to tumble over that cliff as soon as he pushed into Stiles. He just prayed he'd make it in to the hilt, prayed he could knot Stiles before it was all over, because fuck how he wanted to knot him.

There weren't even words for how much he wanted to. Nobody's vocabulary was that good.

By the time he started working the second finger in alongside the first, Stiles had gone from swearing sporadically in amongst gasps of Derek's name to full on pointless and aimless babbling. About three quarters of what he was saying made zero sense, but Derek sort of liked that he could make Stiles lose control like that. Especially given how this Stiles always seemed in control, was always collected. Derek liked to be the one to make him come undone.

And then right in the middle of it he blurted: "Fuck Derek, you're knot, you're going to knot me right, you have to. I want you do, so don't you dare end it before then. I'm a wolf I can take it. Did you know nobody's ever knotted me before? Kind of one of my fantasies though. Fuck. . . fuck. . . fuck Derek there!"

Derek pulled back just a little, stilling his fingers in Stiles' ass and just staring at him. He didn't know if he'd heard that right. "Stiles?" he asked and had to smile at the way that Stiles looked up at him and blinked dazedly and completely out of it. He was looking at Derek in that way that he loved and Derek's breath hitched in his throat on the way out.

"Hmmm?"

Unable to resist, Derek pressed another kiss to Stiles lips, making it quick and short, but still sending electricity crackling through Derek's system, making him want to gasp out. "What did you just say?" he asked, knowing already that Stiles would probably have no clue.

"Which bit?" Stiles asked innocently, looking a little embarrassed even though the flush on his skin now was for a completely different reason.

"The bit about you never being knotted before?" Derek asked and it felt like the words were getting caught on the way out. He wondered if Stiles could hear the desperate edge to them, if he could understand why that was there.

A small frown puckered the skin in between Stiles' brows and he met Derek's eyes only to look away immediately. "I haven't," he admitted after a minute, "Mason always wanted to and stuff, so did other people, but I never let them."

Derek didn't know if it was his place, but he wanted to ask. He had to ask. "Why not?"

This time the colour that rose to Stiles' cheeks was definitely a blush and Derek was struck again by how young that made Stiles look. "I didn't want them to," he mumbled, voice quiet and withdrawn, like he was expecting a rebuttal somewhere here, "I wanted it to be you, I didn't let them because I wanted it to be you."

It was obvious from the startled look on his face and the equally surprised look that burst out of Stiles' lips that he hadn't expected a reaction like Derek had. Derek pressed his slick fingers further into Stiles, hitting his prostate dead on and making him come undone right as he slotted their mouths together in possibly their fiercest kiss yet.

But more than that, it was possessive. It was happy. Because this meant Derek got a first. This meant he got to have at least one part of Stiles nobody else had had before. A part nobody else but Derek would ever have. Of course, he'd have to explain that to Stiles later because he was too busy at the moment being overjoyed.

"For the record I've never knotted anyone either," he pulled back to say though, he felt like they should be even. He felt like Stiles should understand on some level how important this was.

Judging by the look in Stiles' eyes, he hadn't thought that would be the case.

"What?" he asked, "Not even Kate?"

Derek bristled at the sound of her name, but he snorted as well. "I wasn't supposed to let her know I was a werewolf then remember?" he reminded him, rolling his eyes, "Idiot."

Stiles huffed, wriggling closer, "You know there's something inherently wrong with you calling me an idiot when you're fingers are buried in my ass."

"Shut up Stiles," he replied for lack of anything better to say, cutting off Stiles' noise of outrage with the perfect combination of a kiss and a third finger working into his ass.

Stiles moaned loud enough to let the entire house know exactly what they were doing, but then Derek wanted them to know. He wanted the whole world to know that he was claiming his mate. Finally he might add.

He rolled Stiles over onto his back, keeping one hand under the small of his back to keep his ass up in the air slightly as he squirmed down the bed a little. He didn't take his eyes away from Stiles' face as he knelt between Stiles' bent legs and ducked in. He sucked at the heat of Stiles cock, dipping his tongue into the slit and smiling when Stiles almost jack-knifed off the mattress. Fingers threaded into his hair and gripped tight as Derek rolled one and then both of Stiles' balls around in his mouth, pressing his nose into the junction between Stiles' thigh and groin and breathing in the pure scent of Stiles. The scent of mate.

Stiles' skin was shining now with a slight sheen of sweat and Derek couldn't resist swiping his tongue up that small line of hair leading to Stiles' bellybutton. He bit at the solid flesh, sucking up a mark and then watching it regretfully disappear. It made him wish he'd marked Stiles back when he had had the chance, but then he hadn't had the right like he had now, so maybe that made up for it.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex, already had been, but it was more so now.

Derek lapped at Stiles' cock for a minute, gathering the pre-cum leaking out and holding it on his tongue. He leant back up the length of Stiles' body, pulling the hand out from behind his back but letting the fingers in his ass remain. He kissed Stiles, letting him taste himself, swallowing that glorious combination of pre-cum and saliva as well as Stiles' moan.

"Fuuuuuck," Stiles gasped out, tugging at his hair so that they could look at each other, "Get in me, you need to get in me."

And Derek could have cracked a joke about how he technically already was, but jokes were more Stiles' thing so he didn't. He did smirk at the needy whine Stiles let out when Derek removed his fingers and he knew how empty Stiles much have felt, knew how on edge he was. Derek could completely sympathise because right then his skin felt like it was on fire, every casual sweep of Stiles' hands down his torso only adding fuel and making him burn all the hotter. He was so hard it hurt and honestly he was pretty sure his brain cells were being burned away with every second they waited.

He moved Stiles' thighs, lifting them up and glad that Stiles caught on quickly and hooked his ankles around Derek's back. He held himself up with one arm as he guided himself to Stiles' entrance.

Both of them hissed as the head pushed inside, Derek at the tightness and Stiles at the intrusion.

"Just do it," Stiles gasped out, wiggling down at the same time as he arched up off the bed. He looked beautiful, his mouth fallen open and his pupil blown wide, the flush worked down onto his chest and his grown out hair a mess over his head.

Derek nodded numbly and dropped to his forearms, holding Stiles to him as he slammed home. He bit into the side of Stiles' neck to stop himself from shouting out, squeezing his eyes tight shut and scrambling for any shreds of control he could fine. He'd been right about it being near impossible not to come as soon as he bottomed out. And it didn't help that he could feel Stiles' internal muscles fluttering around him, tightening and spasming and it took him a moment until the white haze around his brain faded to realise that Stiles was coming between them.

Or rather had just finished.

"You have to be kidding me," he groaned out, shifting the tiniest bit and choking on air.

Stiles squirmed on Derek's cock, no doubt starting to feel the knot that was swelling at the base. "Just move and give me a minute," Stiles muttered, looking only slightly embarrassed, "I have the recovery time of a teenager, just pretend that never happened."

Derek laughed low in his throat and knew Stiles understood that was what it was meant to be even if it did come out a little strangled. Then he moved and it was the closest thing to perfection Derek was ever going to get.

Stiles was tight and wet with the lube, the heat inside of him burning all traces of ice on Derek's soul away. It lit him up from the inside, coiling tight around him just as Stiles' limbs were, his arms working up around Derek's neck and his heels digging into the bottom of Derek's back. And even though he'd already come once, Stiles met him thrust for thrust, pushing down to meet each snap of Derek's hips and mouthing at the side of his neck. He kept alternating between biting kisses and just pressing his face there and breathing and all of it made goosebumps rise along Derek's arms.

It was like he was on a new plane of existence entirely, like he would have been seeing everything in a new way if his eyes hadn't been screwed tightly shut. He pulled his head out of the pillow next to Stiles' face and pressed his forehead against Stiles', opening his eyes and smiling into the brown ones that stared up at him.

Stiles panted into his mouth, the short raspy breaths telling Derek' exactly how far he was gone.

Fingernails were raked down his back, making him bite back a snarl that was really more of a moan and he slammed his hips forwards into Stiles' harder in perfect retribution. Words were tumbling out of Stiles' mouth constantly, a litany of harder, faster, Derek, deeper, faster, harder, fuck, fuck, shit Derek, oh my god! And Derek did everything he asked, or at least went with the general consensus to save himself from looking like a person demented trying to do everything at once. He pulled back from Stiles and sat down on his heels. Stiles' legs dropped until they were wrapped lower around his waist and he was basically sitting in Derek's lap now, but he was controlling nothing.

All Stiles seemed to be able to do was throw his head back and gasp as Derek lifted him up and slammed him down in time to the thrusts Derek was pumping upwards. He bared his throat to Derek in a way he had done no one else as far as Derek could see and even if it was unintentional it didn't matter. It was still there.

Derek bent in, sucking mark after mark onto Stiles' neck, marring the pale column only to have it heal up and allow him to start all over again. He knew from the way that Stiles' moans had turned high pitched and breathy, desperate even that he was hitting Stiles' prostate with almost every thrust in this position, at this angle. So he kept doing it. He wanted to see Stiles come undone. He wanted to make the brand new Alpha shatter in his arms just so that Derek could be the one to put him all back together again. Derek wanted to cement himself in between all the pieces of Stiles, permanent and immovable. He wanted to be Stiles' foundations and the roof over his head and everything else in between.

Stiles moaned, loud and unabashedly when Derek's knot swelled further and started to push upwards with Derek's thrusts, seeking entrance to the warmth of Stiles' body. And then Stiles' moans and curses turned into the most perfect compilation of, "Do it, do it, do it Derek, fuck do it." So he did, slamming up at the same time as he pulled Stiles down hard onto his cock, feeling his knot stretch Stiles further open, feeling it start to work its way inside as Stiles mouth opened in a silent, startled scream.

Derek ran his hands up Stiles' back, feeling the bumps of his spine and the rise and fall of his chest with every ragged intake of breath. He slid his fingers into Stiles' hair, the locks longer than they had ever been when this had happened in Derek's imagination and somehow that made it better, it made it more real in a way that Derek couldn't explain.

He pulled Stiles' face down to his, pressing their lips together as he circled his hips and pressed them slightly upwards, moving as much as the knot that locked them together would allow. And he didn't even know until Stiles answered that he'd started muttering his own words and praises, had started mumbling, "Thank you, thank you, oh my god, so perfect, thank you, I love you," against Stiles' mouth in between kisses. He tried to chase Stiles' lips when he pulled back slightly, but the gentle pull of his hair stopped him and he blinked with bleary eyes up at Stiles, watching the way that the younger man's face split with an easy, blindly happy smile.

"You don't have a fucking clue what you just said," he muttered back, pressing their sweaty foreheads together, "But I love you too."

And just like that Derek was coming and it seemed to have crept up on him for some reason. It surprised him, like after knotting Stiles he had forgotten that part even was left to happen. He was coming harder and longer than he ever could remember doing before, filling Stiles up and none of it being able to escape and he didn't know what it was that set Stiles off, but his dick was jumping between them, thin ribbons of white streaking up to join the mess already on Stiles' chest.

Derek didn't know why he chuckled low under his breath as soon as he got his breath back, but he stroked his fingers over the red-tinted skin of Stiles' cheeks, lowering them back down so that he was pressing Stiles into the mattress and pressing lazy kisses against Stiles' face.

"Sooo," Stiles said a few minutes later, when they'd stopped panting and Derek could actually distinguish who's heart was who's that was pounding between them, "That was knotting huh?"

Derek rolled his eyes, but huffed out a laugh against the side of Stiles' neck, licking a stripe up the side and then nipping over the pulse point. "Shut up Stiles," he muttered again, already having decided that was his default response by this point.

Stiles laughed, throwing his head back into the pillow and one of his hands stroking up and down Derek back at the same time as the other ducked under Derek's arm and started trying to push Derek's fringe up and out of his eyes. It didn't really work, but Derek appreciated the attempt. "What?" Stiles asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes and then looking up at Derek with wide eyes like he was the most innocent thing in the world, "I was just going to say I liked it and we should really do this more often."

He snorted, "Like I couldn't tell that from you coming twice."

He yelped slightly, his hips jerking forwards in a short, aborted thrust that had them both gasping at the sensitivity and the pull when Stiles slapped his ass. Whatever retort Stiles had come up with was evidently forgotten at the reminder that they were fitted together. Or maybe he just purposefully abandoned it in favour of stroking his thumbs across Derek's cheeks and pressing just the slightest of kisses to the corner of Derek's mouth, sweet and loving and fitting with the mood that was settling in the air around them.

Derek just smiled and rolled them onto their sides so that there was no risk of cutting off Stiles' breathing. Stiles tangled their legs together, keeping one hitched up around Derek waist due to the knot. Their foreheads pressed back against one another's, noses brushing as a hand came up to cradle one side of each other's faces and Derek knew the tangle of limbs and the position was sappy and uncharacteristic for him, but it was Stiles.

And Stiles had been screwing up the way he did everything from the very beginning after all.