The Dream started out in the familiar way it always did: Stiles on his back, grass tickling his bare skin, sun warm on his flesh. His left hand crept out to the side, coming across the familiar heat of his Mate, the back of his fingers tickling up hairy forearms and making him smile.

His Mate surged up to roll on top of him and Stiles automatically parted his legs, welcoming him there. A large hand cupped the back of his thigh, pressing it towards his chest and tilting his hips up, putting his hole on display. He didn't question any of it, didn't feel shy or self-conscious the way he would if this were happening elsewhere. Because this was his Mate, his perfect partner who was created just for him. He wasn't gonna judge, wasn't gonna laugh, wasn't gonna shame him for being eager or wanton or slutty.

Besides, given the hard cock that was sliding between his cheeks, his Mate was just as eager as he was.

That was the beautiful part of these Dreams, they were both ready from the get-go. There was no trying to get one another hard, no taking off clothes, no making Stiles wet or opening him up. There was just the two of them getting into the perfect position and his Mate sliding inside, joining them in that most basic way, the way they both craved so badly for.

Reaching down, he gripped his cheeks, pulling them apart and putting his gaping hole on display even more. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, his head tilting back in supplication, a whine vibrating in his throat as he wordlessly tried to beg, knowing there was no use in trying to speak. Warm breath tickled the side of his neck, a wet tongue tracing a tendon there followed by the scratch of whiskers. He moved his head so his lips were by his Mate's ear, mouthing a "please" and hoping it was understood, hips bucking as much as they could against the weight pressing them down.

A rumble was his Mate's answer, whiskers scratching at his sensitive skin. The back of the other man's hand rubbed against his cheek as he reached for his own hard cock, lining himself up before pressing inside.

"Fuck," Stiles breathed out, head tilting back again as his body accepted the invasion, the familiar phantom stretch of his Mate filling him up.

The alpha braced himself on a forearm by Stiles' head, his own ducked down, other hand moving to grip the omega's hip when he bottomed out. The leaner male wrapped all of his limbs around the other male, holding him as close as possible, squeezing the hard length inside of him. His Mate stuttered out a gasp against bare skin, entire body shuddering, inspiring Stiles to do it again and earning a pleasure-filled growl.

He whimpered, feeling more slick being produced and further dampen his passage, leaking out past his Mate's cock and sliding down his crack. He groaned in frustration, bucking his hips once more, another wordless hint that made him hate the silent way things were done in their Dream state.

His Mate nodded, pulling out until the mushroom head was tugging at his stretched rim then pressing inside again. Stiles' head tilted back with a moan, back arching to pull the alpha inside him more, to make him go deeper, to feel him more. The other man buried his head in the crook of the omega's neck, inhaling his scent with heavy pulls that Stiles could feel against his sensitive flesh. The hand on his hip moved to cup around the back of his shoulder, fingers of the other hand burying in his hair as he was cradled close.

The position made him shiver, chest still tight with emotions carrying over from the real world. He knew nothing could get him there, but fuck, he... He was being protected. His alpha was covering him like a shield, was holding him close but with care, and while normally being treated like a fragile little omega weakling would piss him the fuck off, in that moment, it was bringing tears to his eyes.

He had to shut them tight, lifting his head to bury his own face in his alpha's shoulder, digging blunt, chewed on fingernails into his shoulder blades and clinging on. Because he needed this, this illusion of safety, this belief that his alpha wouldn't let anything happen to him. It was stupid and idiotic and stereotypical and everything he'd been fighting and rebelling against, but sometimes, instincts won out over rational and logical thought. Sometimes it felt too damn good and too damn easy to just give in to nature and let his body and his wolf do what they knew was supposed to be done.

And in that moment, he knew he should let his alpha protect and shelter and take care of him.

Lips dragged their way up along the side of his face, a comforting tickle before they were pressed to the corner of his eye. It was like his alpha could sense what he was going through, could sense that he needed this, needed the protection and safety and was promising to give it to him. He nuzzled their cheeks together, his whiskers rough against Stiles' smooth skin, scratching as he mingled their scents and marked the omega as his, another layer of protection against anyone who would dare hurt his Mate.

His hips still moved in slow, rolling motions, the drag in and out smooth, the build-up slow and even. It wasn't sex, it wasn't fucking, it was making love, a gentle promise without words to be there for one another. The weight of it was heavy in his chest and he sniffed against it, a tear leaking from between clenched eyelids.

His Mate breathed out a "shh" by his ear, lips dragging along the shell and making him shiver. "I've got you," his Mate murmured, voice soft in his ear but no less intense in their meaning. "I'll keep you safe."

Sex made Stiles' brain sluggish and it took him a moment to realize that his Mate had spoken to him, that he'd actually heard his voice. It wasn't a groan or a moan, a rumble of a growl against his chest or a breathed out swear he could only feel tickling against his skin. No, it was actual words that were spoken out loud and he'd heard them.

He pulled his head back so fast he damn near slammed it on the ground, saved only by the hand still cradling the back of it. At that moment, he felt his Mate lifting his own head, his movements paused, and Stiles waited for the inevitable urge to shut his eyes, for the Dream to take control and force him to look elsewhere.

But it didn't.

Instead, he came face to face with his Mate, with his strong jawline and blade nose and sharp cheekbones, with those full eyebrows and slim lips and dark whiskers, with those bright eyes that weren't quite green but something else entirely.

His own whiskey orbs flicked all over the alpha's face, hand coming up to touch, to make sure it was happening. He traced the slender line of his nose, dragged along his bottom lip, cupped his cheek. His Mate kissed his palm then leaned into his touch, a pleased rumble emanating from his chest as they locked eyes once more.

"Derek?" he asked dubiously, voice shaking, body trembling from the enormity of the moment.

Derek nodded, weak smile on his face, eyes switching back and forth between Stiles'. "Yeah. It's me," he responded breathily, seemingly unsure of the reaction he'd get to the big reveal.

"Oh thank god," Stiles rushed out, moving his hand to the back of the alpha's neck and hauling him in close for a kiss.

Their lips clashed together before Derek took control, moving them together in a way that made Stiles' head spin despite the fact that he was still laying down. The alpha tucked his legs in close then started thrusting once again, powering into him with long, deep strokes that had him moaning each time he was filled. The formation of his knot came sooner than usual, the revelation of their Mate-dom building them up faster than they normally would, Stiles feeling his spine tingle and balls tighten earlier than ever.

He pulled away from his Mates' mouth, unable to keep them together as it became harder to breathe. He was on overload with everything, the feeling of being filled so fucking perfectly, the way his inner-walls were rubbed and prostate ground against, the knowledge that he was with Derek while performing this most intimate of acts, it was all too much and he could barely pull air into his lungs. There was too much inside him, emotions going haywire and he felt filled to bursting, knew it was only a matter of time before he was gonna explode.

"Close," he murmured through a whine, his Mate's forehead leaning against his, sliding with their mingled sweat and the motion of his thrusts. "'M so close."

Derek nodded, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before slipping off with a swear. "Do it," he breathed, tilting his head down as he lifted his torso, staring down between their bodies but keeping their foreheads pressed together. "Wan' see. Fuck, wanna see you come so bad, Stiles."

The omega followed his line of sight, feeling another rush of arousal at the sight of flexing abs and pistoning hips from his Mate. "Der," he groaned, hand slipping to cling on to a sweat slick shoulder, nail beds tingling with the threat of his claws. "Der. Almost."

"God, baby, please," the alpha begged, letting out a whine, hips moving harder as he worked his cock in and out, his growing knot catching on his rim and causing a delicious sort of tug with every thrust. "Please, please, come for me. Please come."

He nodded rapidly, his every breath a shaky gasp as his body seemed to draw up tight all over. His toes curled from where they were hanging, ankles crossed on his alpha's lower back, his claws digging in and drawing blood, gums tingling as his fangs descended. He felt his every muscle tense up, his balls drawing up even tighter, closer, his stomach clenching in anticipation. Almost, almost, almost...

Stiles' eyes shot open as his hips surged up into the air, feet flat on the couch-bed below him. His hand slammed down on the mattress pad, mouth hanging open on a silent cry as he came. His body remained locked in that position as he released into his flannel pj pants, air trapped in his lungs but the blood still rushing as his entire being trembled from his orgasm.

When he was finally done and breathing again, he collapsed onto the bed, the mattress creaking from the motion. Fucking hell, he'd heard Dreams got more intense after meeting your Mate, but he had no clue it was that much. It was almost beyond what he could handle, and really, he figured that made sense. Made one wanna get with their Mate as soon as possible and start that whole procreating thing without delay—not that same sex Mates could, but it was hard telling instincts that at times.

Only Stiles couldn't. 'Cause his Mate was technically his brother-in-law and a murder suspect and number one on the list of "DO NOT TOUCH".

He breathed out a swear as he ran a hand through his damp hair, his entire body covered in a layer of sweat, his crotch and ass covered in a combination of his slick and his come. He felt gross, smelly, and horribly empty and unfulfilled. His wolf was whining in his head, brain alerting him to the fact that he was in the same house as his Mate and it would be beyond easy to just tip-toe across the building, sneak into his room, slip into his bed, and recreate that Dream for real.

Assuming, of course, that Derek even wanted to.

His mind was hit with a flash of the alpha leaving the interrogation room at the S-Dub's HQ after they'd locked eyes and he knew that there was no way Derek would be cool with any sort of reenactment or recreating or re-anything involving Stiles.

Admitting defeat before he even tried, he crawled out of bed, wincing at the mess he'd made in the sheets. He'd been given permission to use the laundry room though, so he'd wash 'em to make up for it. Least he could do.

After grabbing clean pajamas from his duffel—and silently thanking his need to overpack at times and paranoidly always taking a spare everything—he stepped out the room and paused in the alcove, mind buzzing once again. Was Derek still stuck mid-orgasm? Stiles had heard that it took at least twenty minutes for a knot to go down and he wondered if it was true even when it wasn't tying someone together. If that was the case, then wouldn't the alpha be stuck knotting the air at that moment? Assuming of course Derek had even had a Dream like Stiles did. Did they happen simultaneously between Mates or was Stiles the only one suffering?

He strained his ears to listen in on the other side of the house, only picking up the sounds of a low bass groove, an electronic beat overlaying and a female vocalizing. Music Stiles didn't recognize, especially not muffled through walls. Not that it mattered. The whole point in him trying to listen in on the happenings in that room was to hear if Derek was coming—or still coming really—and that was a fail.

Giving up, he headed to the bathroom, taking his second shower of the night, making it quick and thorough so he didn't raise any suspicions in his host for why he was taking one at such an ungodly hour. He took full advantage of the scent-neutralizing soap though, scrubbing himself down until his skin was red and raw, making sure to wash away any and all evidence of the Dream he'd just had.

Clean, dried, and changed, he shuffled back to his room, still only hearing music coming from Derek's room, the same deep bass groove, electronic pop, female vocals of before, only with a different tune. Back in the office, Stiles stashed his soiled PJs at the bottom of his duffel, hoping the scent of his clean laundry would cover that of his come.

Couldn't say the same of the sheets though.

He winced as he looked at them, scenting the sweat and come and slick that was stuck to them, his own natural scent overriding that of the detergent used on the sheets. He really should just go ahead and get them in the washer, get the stains out before they fully set in and make an even bigger mess, not to mention he was gonna have to get in that bed and go back to sleep.

Orrrr...

Peering around the room, he recognized the opportunity for what it was, another chance to snoop in his brother's stuff and look for clues. And really, he rationalized, starting laundry at two am was suspicious as hell, almost worse than taking a shower then. Definitely shady.

Mind made up, he strolled over to his brother's desk and sat down, taking a minute to swivel in the chair, rocking it back and forth, sticking his bottom lip out in an impressive expression. Damn nice chair. Forcing himself to focus, he opened up the laptop and clicked the Starfleet icon, cursing blinking in the bar asking for a password.

Right. Shit.

He grabbed the password journal out the drawer, typing in every one that was in there and still remaining locked out. He tried passwords he remembered Stu having back when he lived at home, passwords he figured Stu would use, Star Trek references and X-Men characters. Snatching up his phone, he Googled Kirk's birthday, the zip code for his hometown, the year of his graduation, the numbers on the outside of the Starship Enterprise. Still, nothing.

Muttering out a few swears aimed in his brother's direction—then dealing with the subsequent guilt of cursing out a dead guy—he rose to his feet and headed for the bookshelves. The shower switched on elsewhere in the house and Stiles felt his face heat up and his cock twitch as he realized why Derek would be showering at that time of night.

Answered the question about whether or not he knotted in real life. Apparently he did, and he needed to wait for it to go down before he could shower.

That, or he was being polite and let Stiles go first and then just waited for the hot water to restock or something.

He liked the first theory.

Shaking his head to rid himself of any and all thoughts of knots and Derek, Stiles focused on the plethora of books in front of him. No fucking way would he be able to search through all of them to find a hint about a fucking password. Really, he was just taking a shot in the dark that Stuart would've left something in one of them to give it away. But maybe it would jog Stiles' memory about something, spark an idea.

If he had any sort of idea where to start.

Okay, the Star Wars Expanded Universe books, while totally fucking awesome, were clearly scratched from the list of possibilities. The Star Trek novels however...

He slid a well-worn paperback from its spot, the pages dogeared, the cover frayed, and the spine creased in several places. His twin's scent was embedded in the pages, along with the scent of old paper and ink, and he took a moment to just inhale it, hating the fact that one day, the novel would only smell of old book and no longer that familiar scent that was close to his own but not the same. With care, he opened the cover, eyes coming across familiar cursive in black pen, the handwriting making his chest hurt.

"To my Stuey,
Live long and prosper.
Love always,
Mom."

She'd been the only one to call him that and after her death, he would snarl at anyone who dared try to call him "Stuey".

An idea sparked in his mind and he gently put the book back before rushing back to the desk. He tried "Stuey", their mom's name Claudia, her maiden name, her birth date, her death date. He tried his own birthday, his dad's, their parent's anniversary, the name of their old pets, street addresses, schools, mascots, everything and getting nothing.

He let out a groan of frustration as he leaned back, the chair moving with him, hands roughing over his face in frustration. It really shouldn't be that hard to break into his twin's laptop. Wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it.

But that was when Stu still lived at home and Stiles actually knew him. They'd had two years apart, two years of differing experiences, two years of growing and changing. There was every possibility that something from that time apart had inspired this new password.

That or he was just too damn tired to think.

Maybe he should just quit procrastinating and change the sheets.

"Shit," he muttered to no one, giving up on the laptop for the time being, shutting it down and closing it. He rose to his feet, heading for the closet but opening the left side rather than the right, determined to keep snooping. A set of metal crate shelves took up the space, damn near every section filled—shockingly enough. Parts of an old flatscreen computer sat on top, a couple old laptops below it. A drawer full of wires and cords was beneath that, then blank discs and a plastic box full of flashdrives. There was no way he could go through all of those, not without access to a laptop.

He glanced over at Derek's, considering it for a moment before deciding it was a terrible idea. If he couldn't hack into his twin's, there was no way he could do it to a stranger's, not to mention the fact that his scent would be left all over it.

Out of options and feeling too tired to function, he slid the closet doors over and grabbed a spare set of sheets before stripping the couch. He grimaced at the heavy scent of his come and slick all over it, embarrassment causing his face to heat up, tossing them in a pile to the side. The bed was remade in less than a minute and he gathered the dirty laundry and carried it out the room and to the laundry room. He may not be able to wash them that night, but he could at least put them in the right place.

And by right place, he clearly meant dumping them on the floor in the middle of the laundry room. He'd deal with it later. Much later. Like way after a lotta sleep later.

He stepped back into the kitchen, only making it about a foot or two before stopping short when his eyes came across Derek pausing on the opposite side of the room, bundle of sheets in his own arms. Even in the dark, he could make out the ruffed up way his hair was sticking up from being quickly towel dried, the shine of still damp bare shoulders, the way the tips of his ears reddened as Stiles caught the scent of embarrassment that was slowly filling the air. And not just from himself.

The alpha cleared his throat, awkwardly shuffling his weight between his feet, hitching his bundle up higher as it started to sag. But other than that, he was frozen in place, a lot like the younger man, both too mortified to move or speak. Yet the air was thick with implications, with what they weren't saying but both knew. Both of them had experienced a Dream about the other, both had soiled their sheets and needed to wash them, both knew the other was their Mate but was refusing to actually say it out loud for reasons known and plentiful.

One of those reasons currently taking up space in the town morgue.

Stiles swallowed hard, scratching at a sideburn in a self-conscious manner, fidgeting in place just like the other man. What the fuck was he supposed to say here? He felt so very unprepared for this entire situation and so very fucking lost because of it. Damn near every story and every tale involving Mates had them falling together perfectly, completing the Bond almost immediately and having a Mating Ceremony soon after. Hell, even in books and movies where half of the fated pair was already in a relationship, things would be resolved, fixed in that perfect Hollywood way where someone stepped aside graciously, saying they couldn't get in the way of true love and destiny and while it broke the person's heart, they seemed to get over it rather quickly once they got with their Mate soon after.

But none of those stories told about finding a Mate who'd just lost their partner—who happened to be a family member—and refused to make a move on the newly discovered Mate or even acknowledge the connection out loud. What the hell was Stiles supposed to do in that situation? Should he call Derek out on it? Should he force the guy to sit down and talk about it, explain his distance and his leaving? Should he make a move himself?

Could he even make a move? Was that even allowed? Or would it be disrespecting Stu's memory, just like going against their mother's suggestion of birthday movie marathons or having something other than eggplant parmesan on her birthday?

Frustration had his fingers balling into fists as his arms hung loose at his sides, leg shaking. He'd fantasized about his Mate for so long, how they'd meet, getting to know one another, the way they'd fall in love. Even in his wildest dreams he couldn't have imagined a scenario like the one he was finding himself in. And the worst part was the desire, the overwhelming and all-consuming want, need to just rush over to Derek, throw those sheets aside, and hold him tight as he burrowed into the man as close as he could get. His mind started coming up with a million excuses, a million reasons for why he'd do it: seeking comfort in a time of need, feeling distraught and just wanting a hug, homesickness, an omega's tactile nature, the house being too cold and causing him to crave an alpha's warmth. And it wasn't like any of those reasons were lies or made up excuses for doing it; they just weren't the biggest reason of all.

He wanted to, wanted Derek.

He wanted to feel those strong arms wrapped around him, wanted to feel that broad torso against his leaner one, wanted to feel the heat of his skin as it chased away the chill of his own. He wanted to be held close, cherished, protected, kept safe. He wanted to see if it would be like the Dreams—especially his most recent one—if all those emotions and sensations carried over to real life, if it would be better. He wanted to connect with his alpha in a physical way that went deeper than sex, was more intimate than lovemaking, meant more than procreating and being tied together.

But it wasn't gonna happen, not if the way Derek's arms seem to tighten around his bundle of sheets meant anything.

Focusing on his embarrassment was most likely Stiles' best bet at that moment. Maybe if he was mortified enough, he'd want nothing more than to run and hide in his temporary room and never look at the alpha again. Out of sight, out of mind, and way easier to resist temptation that way.

Mate Dreams notwithstanding, of course.

Swallowing hard, he pointed at the laundry room with a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna wash those tomorrow. Or some other point soon," he amended, not entirely sure what their plan for the day was and not wanting to make a promise he wouldn't follow through on.

Derek shrugged and shook his head, snapping out of his own stupor and into motion. "It's fine," he responded gruffly, making his way through the kitchen with the route on the opposite side of the island from Stiles.

'It's very much not fucking fine,' his mind argued, despite the fact that he was nodding, turning his body to keep the other man in his line of sight as he headed straight for the laundry room.

"I just," the omega started then stalled, gesturing to the other room as Derek disappeared into it. "I feel bad. Like a bad guest. I'm a bad guest." He waved his hand in that direction, even though no one was around to see the action, before placing both hands on his hips and grimacing at how ridiculous he sounded.

"It's really no big deal," Derek called through before stepping back into the kitchen. "Not like you did it on purpose, right?" He gave the younger man a pointed look, wordlessly telling him he knew exactly what happened to the sheets and how it happened and why.

Which meant Derek had most definitely Dreamt along with him.

Which meant Derek had seen what Stiles had seen, knew what Stiles knew, and was still acting like there was no connection between them.

Asshole.

Stiles glared at the other man, folding his arms over his chest while he mentally shoved away the embarrassment of having been caught post-wet dream, choosing instead to focus on the anger and annoyance at the other man ignoring the obvious. "You would know, wouldn't you?" he spat out, eyebrow cocked in a challenge and in implication, nodding his head at the laundry room.

The tips of the alpha's ears got redder, a fresh wave of embarrassment hitting Stiles' nose, clearly understanding what had been inferred. He winced as he glanced about the room, eyes never settling, hand working the back of his neck.

Until suddenly, something seemed to click in his head and he turned to the omega with a scowl on his face. "I don't have to explain myself or discuss any of this with you," he stated harshly, finger pointed at the younger man before he stalked forward, back the way he came.

Stiles moved quickly, blocking the exit at the end of the island, holding his hands out in front of himself. Derek stopped short, rearing back before any accidental contact was made, staring down at the other man's hands as though they were covered in flames with razors for fingers.

Okay, so his fingers were long, spindley things and his hands were kinda veiny and skinny and creepy—Stu's words...that Stiles didn't necessarily disagree with—but they weren't that bad in order to cause that kind of reaction.

Then again, considering what physical contact between un-Bonded or recently Bonded Mates caused, it was probably for the best that Derek be wary of them.

Didn't mean Stiles couldn't be hurt or offended by the alpha's reaction. 'Cause he was.

Shifting his attention back to the topic at hand, he focused on the other man's face, eyes narrowed and jaw taut. "No. Fuck you. You definitely have to discuss this with me and the fact that you keep running off is really dickheaded of you."

Surprise had Derek's head rearing back and his brows raising as his eyes widened. "Dickheaded?" he repeated, lips remaining parted, front two teeth in display that Stiles was trying so hard not to find adorable, forcing himself to solely focus on the scents of awe and disbelief rolling off the other male.

Apparently no one had called him out on his dickheadedness before.

Which wasn't all that much of a surprise, considering he was an alpha. And not just any alpha, but the son of the State Alpha and the head of the S-Dubs. He was probably more used to people kissing his ass, cowering in fear, rolling over and showing their belly practically without prompting.

Yeah, that shit wasn't happening with Stiles. He wasn't sure if it was due to a difference in cultures between Beacon Hills and Oak Creek, being raised believing alphas and omegas were on equal ground, or his own antagonistic and admittedly assholish personality, but he submitted to no one, kissed no ass, Mate or not.

Except for Lydia, but that was pure survival instincts there. He also tried to be on his best behavior around her mom, given the fact that she was County Alpha, but it was him and he fucked up. A lot.

"Yeah," he replied, dropping his hands and stepping closer. He met the other man right in his narrowed eyes, scowling just as hard back, voice firm. "Dickheaded. Because only a dickhead would bail after realizing who his Mate was and then refuse to acknowledge that fact, even when it's repeatedly shoved in his face," he fumed, standing so he was only an inch or so away from actually touching the other man. He could feel the body heat radiating off the alpha, causing his back to feel chillier in comparison, cold prickling the back of his neck. But he paid it no mind, too busy glaring at the man before him, meeting him dead in the eye and not giving a shit about propriety or social standards or the position of his dynamic. He was in the right in this and he wasn't backing down.

Derek's eyes flickered down to inspect the scant amount of space between them, yet made no move to back away. His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw taut as he clenched his teeth, every muscle in his body pulled tight. His every inhale was a hard drag, his entire frame rising and falling with it, bare chest coming so close to making contact with Stiles' cotton covered one. With every breath in, Stiles caught the scent of want, of need, of indecision and anxiety. The alpha was holding himself back, despite being a hairsbreadth away from the younger man, despite how easy it would be too take half a step forward and press their bodies together in the way they both so desperately wanted.

Green eyes locked onto his lips, a tongue darting out to wet his own as the light orbs grew half-lidded, adam's apple bobbing with a hard swallow. "I'm not discussing it," he began lowly, shaking, voice like gravel that caused a shiver to race up Stiles' spine. "Because it doesn't matter."

The words were like a stab in the heart and a kick to the nuts at the same time, causing Stiles to inhale sharply before staggering back a step. It didn't matter, their Mate connection didn't matter, their being Fated didn't matter, he didn't matter. Because Derek had had Stu, had been in love with Stu, had Mated and Bitten and made a life with Stu. Stiles was an inconvenience, a nuisance, an annoying in-law he only put up with because it's what his late Mate would've wanted. The Dreams and their Mate connection were irrelevant to Derek because the alpha already had an omega he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with and he was most likely gonna spend that time grieving the loss of him instead.

Stiles nodded dumbly as he processed all of it, still stepping back without being aware of moving. His body was cold all over but he wasn't sure if it was from the loss of Derek's body heat so close to him or the icy blast of rejection or both. He found himself absently murmuring out a "right", feeling stupid for ever thinking he had a shot. "'Cause you're you and I'm me and you had Stuart, you had the better twin. Why would you settle for me? Why would you wanna be with a second-rate piece of shit after having been with the best version?" A self-deprecating smile formed on his face, a humorless laugh escaping with it, and he started shaking his head in disbelief over ever thinking there was a chance Derek could want him.

The alpha grimaced and stepped closer, hand reaching out as though to touch, to grab hold, only it never came close. "Shit, Stiles, I—"

"No, it's cool, it's fine, I get it," he interrupted, waving his hands in front of himself in dismissal. He didn't need to hear it further explained, didn't need it confirmed out loud. His ego and his heart were bruised enough. The words actually being said would be a knock-out blow he wasn't sure he'd ever come back from.

"It doesn't matter," he went on, using the other man's words, barely noticing the way Derek winced at it and his scent shifted to something remorseful and guilty. "I don't matter. You shouldn't waste your time on a cheap knock-off like me." Having said his piece, he turned to slink back into the office, hoping Lydia's offer to stay with her at Parrish's would still be there later on in the day.

"That's not what I meant," Derek insisted as he grabbed hold of Stiles' forearm as though trying to stop the omega from leaving, tugging to pull him back close again.

Only that didn't happen.

Stiles inhaled sharply, nearly choking on the sudden rush of air as it filled his lungs. The place where Derek held on to him was burning, and not just due to the alpha's higher temp. No, this was like touching a wet finger to an outlet, like lightning striking and electricity swirling through the contact. The hot buzzing spread throughout his skin like wildfire, igniting him all the way down to his core, jump-starting his heart to race double time like a defibrillator, freezing his lungs in his chest.

Arousal rushed through him so fast it made his head spin, hips jerking as his dick went from flaccid to hard in half a second at a speed he'd never known. Slick flooded his passage, hole twitching as it opened, body preparing itself for invasion without any orders from above.

Then again, maybe there had been.

A low rumble caused him to groan, head falling back and eyes drifting closed as the sound caused another wave of arousal to wash over him. He felt his cheeks heat up, his face flushing with it, his skin tingling all over in anticipation of a touch, a caress, a kiss, something. And all because of the too hot hand wrapped around his forearm.

Lifting his head, he looked at the alpha still holding him, the sight making his teeth sink into his bottom lip to hold back another groan. Derek's eyes were glowing bright scarlet, heavy lids at half-mast, pupils dilated for reasons beyond the dark of the kitchen. The red from his ears had spread to his cheeks, visible even through the dark whiskers, top lip quivering as that rumbling growl continued to emanate from him. His scent was pure sex, the rich spice of arousal, the heady musk of alpha, and a sharp note that screamed mine at Stiles, that demanded he step closer and rub himself all over the other man until he was covered with it, until Derek was covered with him. He needed to mark, mate, be knotted, be claimed as he claimed the older man right back and he didn't care where or how, just needed it to be soon.

Very soon.

His whiskey eyes drifted down, past a heaving chest, past taut abs, to a barely concealed bulge covered in black boxer-briefs. The head of his hard cock was pushing against the slit in them, trying desperately to escape, trying to find its way into something warm and wet and Stiles had no problem volunteering his body to be that very thing, whether his ass or his mouth, it didn't matter. He was pretty sure he was drooling at the thought of going down on Derek, of sucking that hard length into his mouth, tasting his alpha and feeling the weight of him on his tongue. He let out a whimper at the fantasy, stumbling closer to the other man, eyes still locked on his crotch.

Derek hauled him in all the way, Stiles crashing against his broad chest, gasping upon impact. Without giving him a chance to recover, the alpha gripped the back of his neck with his free hand and brought their lips together.

The kiss was a fierce, demanding thing that stoked the fire within him even higher. It wasn't the weird experimenting with Scott that left them more grossed out than pleased. It wasn't the uncomfortable fumbling with Heather as he tried to figure out what making out actually entailed. It wasn't the drunken awkwardness with Danny as Lydia's party turned into a nostalgic trip to Seven Minutes in Heaven. No, this was a claim, this was a passionate promise of more to come, this was an alpha branding an omega as his and guaranteeing further marks as he staked his territory.

And fucking hell, if it wasn't getting Stiles going.

The grip on his forearm was released as hands moved to grip his hips, pulling him even closer to Derek. He let out a groan as pressure was applied to his hard cock, eyes rolling behind closed lids at the sensation of another being pressed against it. His arms wrapped themselves around the alpha's neck as he tried pushing their chests and torsos together more, relishing the heat from bare skin against his cotton covered one. He could feel the rumble as Derek's growls continued, their lips moving together as though they'd been kissing for years, despite never having made contact outside of Dreams. Not that it mattered. 'Cause this wasn't a Dream. It was real. He was really kissing his Mate.

The realization of that fact had Stiles hitching a leg up around his partner's ass, trying desperately to bring them closer together. His hips rocked in need and inexperience, sloppy motions that were still somehow effective in causing the friction he was craving, drawing gasps and moans out of both of them.

A swear gusted out against his lips before Derek kicked things up a notch, tongue practically shoving its way into Stiles' mouth. He eagerly met it with his own, the two wet muscles pressing and rolling together, tasting one another with hasty motions. The hands on his hips moved to cup his ass, squeezing his cheeks then releasing then squeezing again before grabbing a firm hold and hauling Stiles up. The omega wrapped his legs around a trim waist on instinct, knowing he was being moved by feel alone. It wasn't until he was set down on something hard and cold seeped through his flannel pants that he realized he'd been placed on the counter.

He pulled back to catch his breath, hands slipping to bare shoulders, chest heaving as he struggled to pull in air. Derek looked just as wrecked as he felt, panting through parted lips, eyes a steady bright crimson and Stiles just knew his own were glowing omega gold. He bit his bottom lip as he took in the disheveled man before him, wolf howling in joy at the knowledge that this was his, his Mate, his alpha, his all his. How the fuck did he manage to get so lucky?

An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, the counter the perfect height for their groins to align. Derek gripped the back of his neck as he rubbed their noses together, a whimper leaving him, his hips bucking and making Stiles gasp.

"Need you," the alpha admitted under his breath, lips dragging along the younger man's in a tease. "Need you."

"Please," Stiles whispered back, heart soaring when their lips reconnected and Derek began grinding against him in a perfect rhythm.

He slid his fingers through dark hair, the locks cold between his digits from the chilly air and the water from Derek's shower. Hands dipped to his lower back, sliding under his shirt, up to his shoulder blades. The alpha's fingers were like red-hot pokers, leaving trails of scorched skin that branded Stiles as his, another claim on his omega.

Stiles groaned as he moved closed, hips rocking, trying desperately to get more friction on his aching cock. Slick had leaked out his hole, soaking through his pajama bottoms, and he had a half-second of worry that he was smearing it on the counter before his mind went blank with Derek grinding against him.

Reaching behind himself, he grabbed hold of one of the other man's arms, lowering it down his spine and maneuvering the hand into the back of his pants. He whined against the alpha's mouth, a wordless plea and a not so subtle hint as to what he needed.

Derek pulled his lips away, nodding as he panted against the younger man's mouth. His hand curved to the shape of his cheek, index finger tracing the line of his crack in a tease. "I got you," he promised, swallowing hard before dipping his fingers between his cheeks and rubbing the tip of the middle one against his twitching, open hole.

A gasp escaped Stiles at the sensation, at the knowledge that someone else was touching him there, at the electric shock he felt on such a sensitive place. His hips bucked on automatic, entire body jerking, hands flying to the other man's shoulders and trying desperately to get a grip on bare skin. A prolonged groan was pulled from him as that fingertip traced his rim, massaged it, but never pressed inside. His head fell to Derek's shoulder, hand slipping to his upper arm, fingers digging into his biceps as a shuddered breath left him. His entire body was shaking with want, with need, and he arched his back to try and cause that finger to slip inside, mind screaming at him to let the alpha fill him up.

A low whine hit his ears, Derek clutching him tighter, dragging his nose through his hair as he scented him. More slick left him, hole pulsing open to welcome him inside, his body stretched on its own just enough to let it happen. The feeling of the alpha gasping tickled his ear, nose trailing along the shell of it, behind it, burying in the side of his neck to scent him.

Stiles breathed out a swear, grasping the back of the other man's neck to hold it in place, wordlessly telling him it was okay. Derek whimpered, hips grinding in earnest now, breaths huffing out harshly against the sensitive skin of the omega's neck and causing goosebumps to break out all over, his skin tingling.

Acting on instinct, Stiles nuzzled his cheek against the alpha's neck, wolf rumbling in satisfaction and pleasure at the action. He figured it was a scent-marking thing, staking his own claim on his Mate, rubbing his scent on such a vulnerable place, making sure that anyone who was dumb enough to get close to that spot would know who they'd be dealing with.

Derek groaned throatily, his middle finger slipping inside to the first knuckle. Stiles keened as he was breached, pelvis pulling away on automatic before his more carnal instincts kicked in and he flexed back to pull more in. His head turned to the left, desperate to mark, instincts screaming at him to claim, tongue laving the area his teeth would sink in to.

Only for him to freeze all over.

Because Derek's skin wasn't smooth there, and not because of stubble or dryness or any other reason he'd be able to come up with if his head was clear and not foggy with lust. No, that was the unmistakeable rough bumps of scar tissue, of an injury just barely healed over, one that was slow to fix itself because of the intent behind it.

Lifting his head, Stiles peered at the flesh before him, eyes immediately drawn to what his tongue had just moved over: the Claiming Bite that Stu had left on his Mate, Derek.

Fuck.

He'd totally forgotten about his brother, about everything, caught up in the whirlwind of arousal and lust and need and want. He'd completely forgotten that the man he'd been grinding against was taken, had been Claimed by another, belonged to someone else.

To his dead twin brother.

Seriously. Fuck.

The omega stared down at the Bite, swallowing hard. God, he was an asshole. He was an asshole, a dick, a shit brother who couldn't even save his twin's life but he had zero problems hopping into bed with his brother-in-law. Sure, Stu wasn't the nicest guy around or the best brother, had asshole tendencies just as much as Stiles, but he'd never go as far as Stiles had. And Stu deserved better, his memory deserved better than his Mate fooling around with his twin when he'd been dead less than twenty-four hours.

Jesus fucking Christ. How fucked up.

"Stop," he whispered thickly, licking his lips and swallowing hard, guilt and shame overwhelming him. This was wrong, so wrong, despite his instincts and his wolf insisting it was right and the only problem being that it stopped.

Derek froze as he sensed something was off, something bad had happened, lifting his head and meeting whiskey eyes with green ones. "What? What's wrong? What'd I do?" he asked, worry leaking into his voice and scent, eyes flicking back and forth between Stiles'. His belief that he'd been at fault caused the younger man's chest to further fracture, shame increasing, hating himself for allowing his alpha to believe he'd messed up.

But really, they were both at fault. Although Stiles had been the one to escalate things by putting the other man's hand down the back of his pants, but it wasn't like Derek said "no" or stopped him. No, they were both caught in the thrall and the rush of the Mate Bond sparking with that first physical touch, getting swept away by waves of lust and not even thinking about anything else.

But now that the fog was lifting some and Stiles could think a bit more clearly, he was realizing what exactly he'd done and who exactly he was hurting. Okay, so it wasn't like he could hurt Stu with all this, but it still wasn't all that respectful to his brother or his relationship.

Now who was the dickheaded one?

He glanced at the Bite one last time before meeting Derek's eye, his own brow pulling into a worried frown. "Stu," he whispered, eyes ducking down, shame making him unable to keep up the contact any longer.

Derek inhaled sharply, body growing tense all over. His hand slipped out of Stiles' pants as he withdrew both physically and emotionally, stepping away from the omega, Stiles unwrapping his legs from around his waist. Smearing a hand down his face, Derek turned his head to his left, seeming to be staring at the photos on the mantle. "Fuck," he breathed out, roughing his face more harshly before putting his hands on his hips and staring at the floor between his bare feet. "That shouldn't have happened."

Stiles ducked his head in shame, nodding, swallowing hard. The comment was a punch to his ego but nonetheless true. They'd made a mistake, a big one, too caught up in the heat of the moment and screwing up royally.

"Yeah," he rasped out in agreement, fingers clutching the edge of the counter on either side of his still spread legs. He still felt shaky all over, body on edge and skin tingling from the arousal and adrenaline that continued being pumped all over by his rapidly beating heart.

He lifted his head to find Derek already watching him, brow pulled in an apologetic expression, eyes and lips turned down at the corners, scent full of remorse and regret. Green eyes looked him all over, hand moving in an aborted reach for him before he dropped it to his side.

"I'm sorry," the alpha apologized sincerely, voice gravelly and rough. With one final nod, he turned and stalked his way to his room, door shutting quietly behind himself.

Stiles remained where he was, staring down at his trembling hands as he held them above his lap, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. Things just couldn't be easy for him. He had to constantly lose, constantly have things taken away while everyone around him practically had everything thrown at them. Wasn't enough that he'd been born an omega, no, he had to lose his mom, his twin, his Mate.

Fuck his life.

With a shaky sigh, he slid off the counter, awkwardly waddling to the guest bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, trying to cool himself off despite the chill that had hit him the second Derek had pulled away. He roughly dried off with the hand towel, haphazardly hanging it on its designated ring before daring to look at himself in the mirror. His lips were red, swollen, kissed into a blur of sorts. His hair was a mess, but that could've been attributed to sleep and not doing anything with it after his shower—both showers, he mentally added. His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded and glazed over, the side of his neck red with whisker-burn.

He looked fucked out without even having been fucked.

Lifting a trembling hand, he lightly traced his fingers over the stinging flesh on his neck, relishing the tingling he got as a result. His mind started buzzing, memories of Derek pressed against him, inside him flashing through his mind with phantom sensations accompanying. His hole pulsed, still open, his cock still hard and twitching and he hated himself for still being turned on after remembering his brother and why he needed to put a stop to things.

But he couldn't help who his Mate was, just like he couldn't help his traitorous body from becoming aroused by him, and he was a fool for believing otherwise. The heart—and body and wolf—wanted what it wanted and the only thing he could do about it was remain steadfast in his refusal to give in.

Peering down his body, he caught sight of the erection tenting his flannel pants and felt the slick that had been smeared over his ass. There was no way he was falling asleep like that, not without some relief and a damn good clean-up job.

Shoving his pants down to his thighs, he took himself in his hand, using the minimal amount of precome that had leaked out to lube his motions as he stroked himself. He reached behind with his free hand, finger teasing at his hole and only pressing in to the first knuckle, just like Derek had done to him. Wasn't exactly the same, the alpha's fingers thicker, but it was enough so that when Stiles closed his eyes, he could easily imagine it was the other man touching him once more.

He let himself get lost in the memories, remembering what it was like to feel Derek's body heat radiating off him, his hard cock pressing against Stiles', his lips against his skin, his scent in the omega's nose. It only took a few quick strokes and a slight tug at his rim before he was snatching up a tissue from a box on the counter to catch his come, mouth falling open on a silent cry, body shuddering as he orgasmed.

The come down didn't take long, aided by the emptiness he felt inside and the unsatisfied whine of his wolf. God he was sick of coming alone, of not having someone else get him off. And the fact that the one person he wanted to make him come was just on the other side of the house was the shittiest part of it all, further adding to the loneliness he felt inside.

Stiles cleaned up quickly and efficiently, using the washcloth and soap from the shower and water from the sink. His pants were pretty much stained beyond use, just like his others, and he was forced to change into a pair of boxers and hope he wasn't too cold to sleep.

Curling up in clean sheets, he let out a sad sigh, feeling more numb than ever. The shower cutting on once more brought a smile to his face though, a mean sort of satisfaction washing over him at the realization that he wasn't the only one who was suffering.