Archive of Our Own

Stiles sits in a cafe, waiting for the guy who might become his next client. He’s a special kind of companion for werewolves, and that pays his college tuition and his dad’s expenses. His dad might have been the sheriff of Beacon Hills once, but after he got injured, the insurance didn’t cover all the living costs. So Stiles, the good son that he is, took it on himself to fix the problem.

His dad thinks he’s doing graphic design for companies.

The sad part is that if he could be honest with his dad, he’d have no qualms about his job. Most of the time, he loves it, loves the energy he gets from it and what he can give to others.

And it’s not even that he thinks his dad would disown him or something equally stupid. Stiles just can’t stand the idea that his dad would think that it’s somehow his fault that Stiles is in this line of business now. It’s not. He made his own choices.

Besides, he’s very good at understanding what werewolves need, and he learned that by accident when they were still in high school. Scott calls him the wolfnip because he draws all kinds of werewolves to him even when he doesn’t try to do anything.

Stiles’ first ever client wasn’t a client at all. He just helped the guy out because the guy needed the attention, the easiness of someone knowing what he is and still accepting and wanting him. A human lover, a weak prey, someone who appreciates the wolf’s needs.

He’s stopped looking up when the door to the cafe opens because it’s pointless and makes him seem too eager. The guy will know who he is because he’s still wearing his fuzzy wolf-ear hat with the neck warmer. It’s been a terribly cold winter, and even inside the cafe, he’s still shivering a bit.

Stiles leans over his coffee, breathes in the lovely scent, and stills. He can feel someone’s eyes on him, and when he turns to look at the newcomer, his jaw almost drops.

The guy is definitely his next client, if he’s even remotely normal.

It’s not difficult to spot a werewolf in a crowd. There’s absolute confidence in them, the kind that people rarely have. They carry themselves differently, like they are attuned with their bodies on a profound level. Primal is the word that comes to Stiles’ mind.

The guy stalks closer to Stiles’ table, hesitates, and then goes to stand in line to buy something.

Stiles stares at him shamelessly.

It seems to take forever for the guy to come to Stiles, and he’s getting impatient. He wants to know how the guy sounds, what he says, how he feels when he’s close. That’s important. They have to be compatible.

“Hello,” his gorgeousness says and sits down, holding a cup of cappuccino.

Stiles stares some more because there’s only a thin T-shirt under the guy’s leather jacket, and the soft fabric doesn’t hide the fact that the guy has a beautiful body to match that beautiful face.

“Hi, hello, welcome,” Stiles says, unable to hide how so not disappointed he is.

“I’m Derek. Nice to meet you.”

Stiles swallows. Derek. He wonders if Derek is his real name. So far he’s only known Derek as Fangs25. “Nice to meet you, Derek. I’m Stiles.”

There’s a short uncomfortable silence after that, but then Derek asks, “How are we supposed to do this?”

“You’ve never done this sort of thing before?”

Derek shakes his head, and all Stiles can do is appreciate his neck and jawline. Stiles wants to lick and bite his stubbled cheek.

“We chat for a short while, see if we fit, and then if we do, we’ll go to a motel which you’re going to pay for.” Stiles is talking softly, quietly, making sure his words are just for Derek’s werewolf ears. “And then I’m going to be whatever you want me to be.”

Derek’s eyes are glued to his. “Anything?”

“Pretty much. No permanent marks, no injuries, but I can take a lot. You can let the wolf out.”

Derek sucks in a breath, holds it, then exhales. “Okay. And you like this? You’re into this? I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Stiles smiles. “I’m very into this. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re perfect.”

Derek blushes and mutters something about his sister. Stiles wants to ask, but doesn’t. “You’re a Beta, aren’t you?” he asks instead because he always talks about that. He takes extra precautions when he’s with an Alpha.

Derek nods. “Yes. My sister is the Alpha.”

“Then you can be a little more careless with your claws and fangs. I have a special salve that heals most cuts and bruises. And honestly, I like it when it’s a bit rough.”

Stiles loves the way Derek’s eyes become huge, like he can’t believe his luck. Stiles preens, can’t help it because he knows he’s just that good.

“I’ve… I don’t know what to say.” Derek pauses, then adds very carefully, “Is knotting okay?”

Stiles sighs, closing his eyes and licking his lips. When he looks at Derek again, Derek is staring at his mouth. “Yes. That would be wonderful.”

“How are you even real?” Derek whispers, sounding like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“So do you want to go?” Stiles asks almost coyly because he wants to see how Derek reacts to softness. It seems to be the perfect way to speak to the wolf because Derek’s eyes flash blue.

Derek stands, holds his hand out, and waits for Stiles to take it so he can pull Stiles up. It’s easy to let Derek help put his jacket on, press a hand to the small of his back and guide him out gently.

The walk to the motel is fascinating because Derek is trying not to touch Stiles, but he stays so close his nose is practically brushing against Stiles' temple. He’s scenting Stiles, and it has to be a good smell because when they stop at the red light, Derek sways, his hand almost touching Stiles’ shoulder, but then slipping away.

Stiles can’t concentrate either, and when they finally reach the motel and get a room, Stiles falls inside, Derek right behind him.

“Can I…?” Derek breathes against Stiles’ ear, pulls at his jacket, but can’t get it off. There’s frustration in Derek’s voice when he says, “I can’t control myself with you.”

Stiles drops his bag on the floor and turns around, facing Derek, his hands on Derek’s chest, grabbing the thin shirt under his open leather jacket. Fucking werewolf blood running so hot. “You can,” he whispers, and Derek’s fangs come out, a growl following.

It’s both sexy and scary, and Stiles loves this part, the moment the wolf realizes the human doesn’t mind.

“Oh my god,” Derek whines, burying his face in Stiles’ neck, this time rubbing his own scent all over Stiles, pulling his shirt out of the way, almost ripping the neckline.

“What do you need?” Stiles asks, his voice soft, coaxing. “A Beta to fight with you?” Stiles runs his hands down Derek’s chest, then pushes him away playfully. Derek immediately moves closer, letting out a needy sound, touching Stiles’ arms, sides, his hair under the hat. It’s distracting, but Stiles is determined to find out what it is that makes Derek tick. “Or an Alpha to dominate you?” Stiles grabs the front of Derek’s jacket, and holds his gaze, forces him to his knees with sheer willpower.

Derek looks up at him with cloudy eyes, his mouth open, and yeah, this could be it… unless… “Or an Omega to surrender to you.”

Stiles doesn’t get a chance to do anything before Derek jumps up and crowds against Stiles until he falls on the bed. “Yeah, an Omega,” Stiles whispers. “You want me to beg to be filled?”

Derek tilts his head to the side, and there’s so much wolf in him Stiles is not sure if he even understands everything. Then Derek nods and crawls on top of Stiles, pushing him towards the pillows. “Perfect,” Derek says against Stiles’ collarbone. His claws trace Stiles’ hip, then push his shirt up slowly, like Derek doesn’t want to reveal all of Stiles at once.

“You can tie me up. I have toys in my bag…” He gasps when Derek bites his shoulder. “You can’t put your clawed fingers in me, though. And you need to pre--” He can barely breathe through the assault against his neck, the way Derek bites and licks him, holds him down. “You need to prepare me. I can’t take a knot without prep.”

“Okay,” Derek breathes out, the word mangled by his fangs. “I need to get these off.” Derek grabs Stiles’ hat, throws it across the room, pulls the jacket off him, and then just stares at Stiles, his pupils blown. “You’re beautiful.”

That makes Stiles blush even though he’s heard it before. Derek seems to mean it, though, seems to think Stiles is extraordinary.

Derek leans in, bites Stiles’ ear, then whispers, “I love your eyes... You look so innocent.”

Stiles wasn’t expecting words from Derek, wasn’t expecting to be wooed, and it messes with his head.

His toes curl in his shoes because Derek kisses the side of his mouth, and Stiles arches against Derek’s body, helpless. Werewolves are usually more into taking and less into asking, but Derek seems to be an exception. He’s not hesitant at all, just intensely aware of Stiles’ every move.

Derek pulls back, fighting the urge to bite Stiles again, but he can’t quite manage, his human teeth catching Stiles’ chin. “What kind of toys do you have?” he finally asks, breathing hard and pinning Stiles’ hands to the mattress.

Stiles has to concentrate to form words because Derek is wreaking havoc with Stiles’ mind and body. “Dildos with knots. Cock rings. Nipple clamps.” He can’t remember what else he has... Lots of lube at least. Body vibes. Wolfsbane if things get ugly (he’s never needed it). “Just bring it all here.”

Derek looks at Stiles for a moment, then moves back, letting go of Stiles, and goes to get the bag. When he comes back, he throws the bag onto the bed next to Stiles and slides over him, his body heavy and warm. Derek also managed to get rid of his jacket, and it gives Stiles the perfect opportunity to touch Derek’s bare arms. He feels absolute glee over it, and he smiles at Derek, more than ready to be devoured by the wolf.

“Tie me up, do what you want,” Stiles says breathlessly. “Make me yours.”

And it’s all the encouragement Derek needs. He pulls Stiles’ shirt over his head, then finds the black silk ropes and uses them to secure Stiles’ wrists to the bedposts. When Derek is done he just stares at Stiles like he’s a rare star fallen from the sky, granting all his wishes.

“I can use all of it?” Derek asks, kneeling between Stiles’ thighs, sliding his knuckles across Stiles’ stomach and sides. “I can spread you open and stare at you as much as I want?”

Stiles nods, unable to talk. He’s holding his breath too.

Derek pops the button of Stiles’ jeans. “I can lick you until you can’t take it anymore.” It’s not a question, just a statement, but Stiles nods anyway because he wants Derek to know that he’s giving a green light to everything.

“I can bite your inner thighs, and you’ll like it. You’ll want more.” Derek bends Stiles’ knee, takes his shoe off, then does the same with his other leg. When the shoes and socks are gone, his pants soon follow, and then there’s nothing but his boxer briefs still covering his body. Derek palms him through the briefs, and Stiles bites his lower lip, sucking in a breath because Derek is a damn tease who’s trying to drive Stiles crazy. “You need to get rid of the erection for a while so I can get the cock ring on,” Derek says, his voice soft.

Stiles looks at Derek, trying to think of ways to be less into this. “It’s the strap kind. You can get it on even if I’m hard.”

Derek strokes Stiles’ cock without releasing it from his briefs, and Stiles groans, tilting his head back. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Derek says quietly, using his fingers now, running them all over Stiles’ covered hips and cock and balls.

“Please, just--” Stiles keens because at that moment, Derek opens his legs wide, holds his hips up, and rubs his hole through the briefs, presses his thumb down, almost in. “So warm,” Derek says, concentrating entirely on Stiles. Then he lies down on the bed and presses his face against Stiles’ balls and hole, sticking his tongue out too.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, his whole body shaking. He tries to breathe, tries to be a professional, but Derek is somehow too present and intense, and it affects Stiles more than he cares to admit.

“Yeah, you’re going to be so wet for me.” Derek licks him again, pressing his tongue as far as the fabric allows. “Dripping wet.”

“Anything,” Stiles gasps, barely thinking straight, pulling at the restraints, wanting to touch Derek.

“But first you need to be stretched.” Derek pulls the briefs off so quickly Stiles has no time to adjust to the change. He’s just lying there, staring at Derek with huge eyes, so turned on he can’t think of anything to say.

Derek’s hot palms are against the backs of Stiles’ thighs, pushing them up and open. Derek leans forward, brings his own hips so close they could be fucking if Derek wasn’t fully clothed. “I want inside you. God… I want…”

“There’s lube. There’s everything you need. Please, please just… do it.”

Derek releases Stiles’ right leg and puts his palm over Stiles’ hole, then presses his thumb against it, pushing in. Slowly. Just the tip. “I want to knot you, breed you, fill you up to the rim.”

Stiles moves his hips, trying to get Derek to push further in, but there’s nothing to ease the way and Derek won’t hurt him even though Stiles wouldn’t mind a bit of pain. “Fuck me, please.”

Instead of giving him more, Derek pulls away and gets the bag, and all Stiles can do is rut against the air and press his legs together to try to get some friction, but it’s not enough and he moans in frustration.

“You’re so perfect like that,” Derek says, touching Stiles’ stomach, holding him down. “Can’t stay still?”

“No,” Stiles says, then bites his lip to hold in the pleas. He might be playing an Omega, but he has some pride.

“Good,” Derek purrs, and it’s the most perfect sound Stiles has ever heard. “Now, stay still a little while so I can get this on.” Derek sits on top of Stiles’ legs, takes his cock and balls in one hand, and puts the leather strap around his cock. Stiles feels pressure but it’s the good kind, not the cold and numb kind. This is his own stuff so everything fits perfectly.

“What are you going to do?” Stiles asks, his eyes following Derek’s every move.

“I’m going to drive you crazy with this knot.” Derek is holding one of the biggest dildos Stiles owns. It’s a huge thing with a knot, and needs a bit of work before Stiles can fit it inside him. “And I don’t want you to come before the real deal so that’s why you’re wearing this.” Derek touches the ring around Stiles’ cock, then slides his fingers over the hard length lovingly. He lingers at the tip, rubbing his thumb over it, making Stiles’ insides twist in a painfully pleasant way, too much pleasure burning through him.

Derek isn’t done, though. He also pulls the nipple clamps from the magical gift bag and Stiles groans. He can’t deal with all these sensations at once, not with Derek, not when it already feels like he’s about to burst.

“I’m not sure I can take those,” he says honestly, and Derek runs a hand over one of Stiles’ nipples as though to prove a point. If the point is that Stiles is going to wail loud and hard, then yeah, point taken. But that’s exactly why those might be too much.

“Let’s try them, and if they feel awful, I’ll take them off. Okay?”

Stiles hesitates, but then nods. Derek respects his limits so he trusts Derek to do the right thing.

Derek pulls at the first nipple, plays with it until it peaks, until it becomes a hard bud. Then he puts the clamp on it, and Stiles cries out. He writhes under Derek, tries to pull his wrists free, but when Derek asks if he should remove it, Stiles shakes his head. There are tears in his eyes, but it still feels amazing. He can take it.

The other one is even more intense, and he stares at Derek in almost panic.

“Hey, hey… I can take them off. It’s okay.” Derek is about to release his right nipple when Stiles croaks out, “No, I’m okay. Just… let me breathe for a second.”

Derek touches Stiles’ chest, his fingers light and pleasant, and it makes everything better. Stiles lets out a sigh, then relaxes under Derek. He’s fine.

The smile Derek gives him is so full of pride Stiles is almost blinded by it. He didn’t know he could feel such a need to please someone.

He’s so god damn good at his job, but this is different. He wants to please Derek on a level that goes beyond any job. He wants Derek to remember him. He wants to be the best Omega Derek has ever had or will ever have.

When Derek moves between his thighs again, Stiles hums, his entire body vibrating with anticipation. He wants to be filled. He wants Derek to find a way to fit that monstrous thing inside him.

Derek’s hands rest on Stiles’ knees, then push them up and apart because Derek wants to suck and bite tiny marks all over Stiles’ inner thighs where his skin is at its softest.

Stiles groans because he can do nothing to avoid the assault.

It doesn’t take long for Derek to mark Stiles’ thighs and move up to press his mouth against Stiles’ hole.

Stiles screams because even though he was expecting that, all the stimulation so far has made him overly sensitive. “Fuck… God… Don’t stop.”

Derek growls, his tongue long and so obscenely wet some of Derek’s spit slides down Stiles’ skin. Stiles is used to werewolves and their tongues, but Derek’s drives him absolutely mad in a matter of seconds, and he tries to move, tries to get some release from the desperate need, but Derek won’t let him, just holds him down until Stiles is begging incoherently.

When Stiles is nothing but tiny whines and pleas, Derek finally lets him put his legs on the mattress, but he’s shaking so badly he can’t even hold them up. They just open wide, shamelessly exposing everything about him.

Derek puts a finger in him, pushes it all the way in, and Stiles is so relaxed and spit-wet it goes in easily. Derek doesn’t move it, though, just holds it there, his breathing heavy,and his stare feeling even heavier on Stiles’ skin.

Stiles slowly comes down from the high, holding Derek’s gaze the entire time. He suddenly feels more vulnerable than in a long, long time, and he doesn’t understand what Derek is waiting for. “What?” he asks, unable to hide the annoyance.

“I want you to be aware of every new change before we continue.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say so he just continues to look at Derek. Then very quietly he adds, “Well… I’m aware.”

“And annoyed,” Derek says softly, moving his finger inside Stiles, and it makes Stiles close his eyes, makes him tilt his head to the side. He wants to hide from Derek’s eyes. “I want to take you there every time. Again and again, until you don’t know how to come down, how to be, who you even are. I want you to be so messed up you’ll fall apart if you don’t get my knot.”

He can do that. Hopefully. Vulnerability is a part of his job, and so is trusting a stranger. He’s doing that now, trusting Derek, putting his body and mind in Derek’s hands and trusting that he won’t hurt him. “Okay.”

“Good,” Derek says, his voice soft and gentle. “You’re so good.” Derek reaches for the lube, then pours lots of it on the hand that is partly buried inside Stiles. He adds a second finger, and gets the lube inside Stiles, fills him slowly with all of his fingers except the thumb. “Do you want my fist?” Derek asks, stroking Stiles’ thigh gently.

Stiles shakes his head. He doesn’t want to be that stretched out when he takes the knot.

“You could take it. You’re already so eager for this.” Derek holds the dildo in his free hand, showing it to Stiles.

He is, he wants it so bad. He wants Derek so much it hurts. “Please.”

Derek pulls his fingers out slowly, and replaces them with the head of the dildo. It’s so thick and hard it actually hurts, and Stiles scrunches his face in pain. Derek stops immediately, his voice warm as he talks Stiles through it, and when Stiles relaxes enough, Derek continues to push it inside him until the only thing that is left outside is the knot. “God, look at you,” Derek whispers.

Stiles can barely hear anything through the rushing of blood in his ears. He’s so full, his legs useless weights on the bed, his nipples throbbing and his arms aching because of the binds. His cock is full of blood, so hard all he can think about is coming, and Derek isn’t doing anything, just watching him.

It hurts. He whines, staring at Derek, needing him to do something.

“I have to look at you for a second. Sorry, baby, I have to.” Derek moves to the end of the bed and stands up, his eyes never leaving Stiles. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”

Derek’s gaze is so intense it burns Stiles, making him blush, making his chest ache with lust. He’s stretched open by the fake cock, lying on display for Derek only. And for some horribly inane reason, Stiles wants to be able to return to this moment. He wants to repeat it over and over again. He wants Derek to own him. “Please, push it all the way in. Please.” He wants Derek inside him.

He can’t stop his hips from moving, can’t be in control of anything anymore. He exists only for the sensations of his body.

“Yeah, gorgeous boy. Are you going to take the knot now?” Derek stalks closer, still not touching Stiles.

“Put it in me.” Stiles lifts his hips, shamelessly trying to lure Derek in.

Derek is right there in the next moment, all of his attention on the dildo inside Stiles. He pulls it almost all the way out, then presses it back in, repeating the motion so many times Stiles starts to breathe in that rhythm.

“Fuck…” Stiles throws his head back, twisting his lower body, trying to make Derek hit the right spot. He so needs to come, and it’s absolutely maddening to know he can’t. “Please.”

Derek leans over Stiles, whispers in his ear, “Let go, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Promise?” Stiles wants to cry. He doesn’t know how he’ll get what he needs, doesn’t even know what he needs anymore.

“I promise,” Derek says, his fangs out again, the words becoming more animal-like. “I promise, Stiles.”

“God, please… Just fuck me with it. Harder. Please.” He moves with Derek’s thrusts, the dildo pushing as deep as it goes, almost hurting, and it’s pure bliss. Stiles’ mind whites out, and he just feels, lets Derek take him there, to the very edge of sanity, and then he feels the knot pushing past the last resistance of his rim.

Stiles lets out a long moan, breathing heavily against Derek’s skin, maybe his neck, maybe chest. He has no idea, but it feels good to have Derek so close, pressed against his face, smelling of clean sweat and something uniquely Derek. Stiles bites Derek’s skin, so out of it he can’t hold back the need to grab, hold, hurt. He needs Derek. “God, let me come. Let me come. Please.”

“Not just yet,” Derek whispers in his ear, the words intoxicating to Stiles.

The fake knot is not enough, though. It’s not warm. It doesn’t swell. It doesn’t spurt anything inside him. He needs to be full of Derek’s come. “I can’t… Please, Derek. I need you in me. Need…”

He’s close to tears again, so turned on, so ready to come, he’s getting lost within the feeling.

Derek kisses him then, and it makes Stiles want to wrap every part of his body around Derek. Derek uses the kiss to distract Stiles and before he knows it, the dildo is gone. It leaves him wide open, and he feels so empty, so out of it that he tries to get closer to Derek, tries to hide in him.

Derek releases Stiles’ cock and removes the nipple clamps, and that finally pulls the tears out of Stiles. It’s just too much, and when Derek unties his wrists, Stiles does what he absolutely needs to, winding his arms around Derek, keeping him as close as possible. His arms are tingling and slightly numb, but it doesn’t matter because he’s being held by a wolfed out Derek who is panting against Stiles’ neck.

Then, with a whirlwind of motion and snarling sounds, Derek pulls Stiles up, sits against the head of the bed, and helps Stiles ease down in his lap. Derek’s pants are lowered just enough that his cock brushes against Stiles’ ass, and then Derek is inside him, the whole world ceasing to exist. Stiles doesn’t want to know about the future; he only wants to stay in the present, wants to be Derek’s, wants to belong here.

Derek is grunting, growling, his claws scraping at Stiles’ sides, his fangs pressing against Stiles’ neck, not quite breaking the skin even though he clearly wants to bite, wants to claim.

After a tiny eternity, Stiles feels Derek stilling, feels the strong hands holding him down, and he knows it’s coming. It’s bigger than the fake one, Derek’s knot. It feels so different, swells in a way that prevents Stiles from moving. They are locked together, and from here on out it’s nothing but an endless stream of come, Derek’s cock pulsing inside him. It draws hurt noises out of them, and Stiles tries to find Derek’s lips so he can kiss him. He wants to know it’s good, that he’s good, that it’s enough.

“I’ve never…” Derek sounds so out of it. “I didn’t know how it would feel.”

Stiles strokes Derek’s back, grabs his hair and holds on tight, too overwhelmed to do anything else. This is Derek’s first time knotting?

“Oh my god… It just keeps happening.” Derek moves just a bit, and he manages to drive his cock deeper. It stimulates Stiles in the exact right way, and he’s so close to coming he can’t even form a rational thought anymore.

Then Derek wraps a hand around Stiles’ cock, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the orgasm. Stiles shakes with the force of it, getting their stomachs and Derek’s hand wet, and it’s incredible beyond words. He falls against Derek, letting Derek take all of his weight, everything of him. He stops breathing for a few seconds, just because he has no strength left for anything.

Derek holds him through it, stroking his back and kissing his hair. It makes Stiles feel treasured, and he doesn’t know what to do with that feeling.

He rests his head against Derek’s shoulder, listening to Derek’s moans, the surprised sounds he can’t fully hide because this is so new to him. Stiles loves to be the first, loves to share this moment with a wolf, especially a born one who’s had the instincts since puberty but has never had the opportunity to find out how it really feels.

Derek pulls Stiles a tiny fraction closer, breathes in his ear, and says, “I have no idea how long this is going to take.” He sounds amazed and open, his unprotected heart in Stiles’ hands.

Stiles smiles against Derek’s skin. “It can take anything from ten minutes to forty.”

Derek bites Stiles’ neck, then whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I try,” he whispers back, and Derek laughs softly in his ear.

They stay like that for a long while, but Derek doesn’t complain about Stiles’ weight or suggest any changes to their position. He just holds Stiles, kisses him whenever he feels like it, and Stiles enjoys the closeness because that’s exactly what he needs right now. He’s beyond exhausted and satisfied, yet he’s still full of Derek’s cock. He needs safety, and Derek is offering him that.

When it’s finally over, when they really need to get up and get clean, things become a bit awkward. They always do because people realize what they’ve just done, and not everyone takes it well.

Derek isn’t an exception. As they stand next to the bed - Stiles completely naked and Derek in rumpled clothes - Derek doesn’t seem to know where to look.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says softly, touching Derek’s cheek. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” Stiles really needs to get in the shower because he is full of Derek’s come, and that just can’t stay inside him forever. Stiles puts a hand on his own stomach, smiling at Derek. “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Stiles undresses Derek, pulls at his clothes until they are all gone, and when they are under the water he washes Derek’s hair and rubs his shoulders, takes good care of him, just like he does with all of his customers.

It’s still different somehow.

It’s the way Derek treats him. Wolves are always polite and needy and dominant and expressive, but Derek is also sweet. His nose is in Stiles’ hair again, smelling him, and he touches every part of Stiles’ body to make sure he smells like Derek even after the shower. It goes beyond any short term interaction.

When it’s time to talk about money, Stiles writes his price on paper, and Derek goes through his wallet and takes out more bills than Stiles asked for. He accepts what Derek gives him, though, because it’s clear Derek won’t take no for an answer.

They stand outside the motel room door, Derek’s hand in Stiles’ hair, tilting his head back a little. Derek leans in, his lips almost touching Stiles’ for a long, wavering moment, and when they finally do, it feels like a bittersweet goodbye.

Stiles’ heart aches, he can’t help it, but he also wouldn’t change this experience for anything. And neither would Derek. He looks happy, content and deeply satisfied like some odd edges have been smoothed out.

They go their separate ways, and Stiles doesn’t look back even though he wants to. He can’t. He might go back if he did.

*

Beacon Hills University wasn’t Stiles’ first choice when he started looking for possible colleges, but the thing is, he wanted to stay close to his dad. Getting shot changed John’s life, and in the process, it changed Stiles’ life, too.

His dad gets by, but he needs a walking stick and that makes him unbearably cranky sometimes. Stiles is just glad he didn’t bleed to death on the scene.

The one positive thing that’s come out of all this is Scott’s mom, Melissa, who now practically lives at Casa Stilinski. It’s made his dad slightly less cranky, too.

Stiles’ day at BHU has already included Principles of Forensic Science and Social Justice, and he’s finally starting the course he’s been waiting for since he started college: Forensic Psychology. He wants to become a forensic psychologist, and this is definitely the first real course to take him in that direction. So far he’s been studying the basics from intelligence and behavior to neuroscience and development.

He’s waiting for the professor to arrive, his hands tingling. The auditorium is huge, but Stiles is in the front row because he wants to see and hear everything with absolute clarity.

When the professor walks into the room there’s a tiny gasp behind Stiles, and he turns to look at the dark haired girl who’s staring at the professor with open admiration. He must be gorgeous then.

Stiles lets out a gasp of his own because the professor is also his client from last week, Fangs25 a.k.a Derek. Professor Hale? Fuck Stiles and his fucking bad luck.

Derek is watching him, too, his eyes undressing Stiles in front of everyone, and Stiles has to put his notebook over his lap because, god damn, he gets hard instantly. Derek breathes in, then tears his gaze off of Stiles and starts the lecture.

Stiles tries to listen, but most of it falls on deaf ears because he’s concentrating on not staring at Professor Hale. Derek is gorgeous in his own element, and Stiles follows all his gestures, the way he paces around, how he tilts his head… So much for not staring. Stiles whines out loud, and people around him turn to look at him. Derek doesn’t seem to notice, though, but Stiles knows Derek heard him. Derek is a freaking wolf. He can hear anything, even Stiles’ frantic heartbeat.

It’s ridiculous how long the class feels. It’s even more ridiculous how little Stiles learns during those long minutes. He probably has to change schools just to learn the things he wants to learn. God, he’s such a moron.

When the class is over Derek calls Stiles over before he can sneak out of the door. Everyone else leaves, only Stiles staying, and he has to face Derek without any buffer to protect him.

Their activities were illegal, and they are both interested in the justice system. Stiles has never in his life been so mortified.

“Hello, Professor Hale,” Stiles says when he reaches Derek’s desk.

Derek is leaning against it, his arms crossed. He’s taken off his suit jacket, and it means Stiles can see one more thing that messes with his head: Derek is wearing suspenders. They look gorgeous against the white shirt.

Stiles bites his lip so he won’t let out another involuntary sound. He can’t stop the tremor that goes through his body, though.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski.” Derek’s voice is low, and Stiles’ dick gets interested again. He’s not wearing a long enough shirt to hide it, but it wouldn’t even matter because Derek can smell his arousal anyway. Fuck the wolves and their superior senses. “So what do you want to do when you grow up?” Derek asks.

Stiles opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. God, he’s pathetic. He closes his eyes for a second, breathes out a few times slowly, then looks at Derek and says, “I want to study criminals. I want to understand why things happen and how to prevent crimes. I want to be a forensic psychologist, and maybe later… a profiler.”

Derek unfolds his arms, bites the side of his thumb, and looks at Stiles. “Okay, and are there ever going to be any problems between us?”

Stiles swallows. Derek is asking if Stiles is ever going to tell anyone that Derek bought sex from one of his students. That would be the end of Derek’s career. “Never,” Stiles says as firmly as he can.

Derek relaxes visibly, and that too makes Stiles tremble. It’s unfair how strongly Derek affects him. “That’s good to know.” Derek pauses, then adds, “Have a successful semester, Mr. Stilinski.”

That’s it. That’s his cue to leave, but he just can’t. He thinks with his dick when he moves closer to Derek, leans in, and whispers in his ear, “I’ll be thinking about you when I jerk off in the bathroom.” Then he walks out of the classroom, shaking because that was unbelievably stupid.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters to himself as he practically runs to the bathroom. Fortunately no one is there because classes are starting soon. He opens the door to the first stall, closes it quickly behind him, and drops his pants. He has his hand around his cock as soon as his pants are down, and it feels so god damn good. He thinks about Derek inside him, thinks about Derek fucking into him in the classroom over the teacher’s desk. He comes with a groan, his free hand against the back wall.

When he’s caught his breath, he cleans himself, pulls his pants back up, and exits the stall.

The only problem is, Derek is outside the door, and he grabs Stiles’ shirt, pulling him close. Derek is breathing hard, his knuckles turning white as he holds Stiles. “You can’t do that,” Derek spits out, not quite angry, but not far from it.

“What? Jerk off?”

“Taunt me. It’s dangerous.” Derek’s breath is warm against Stiles’ cheek.

“You’re the one who came after me.” Stiles pulls free and goes to wash his hands. Derek follows, and before Stiles can wash the spunk off his fingers, Derek takes his hand, brings it close to his mouth, then licks the fingers one by one.

Stiles literally cannot stay on his feet. He has to take hold of Derek’s shoulder and lean on him. He tilts his head back, whimpering.

“I can’t…” Derek pulls Stiles flush against himself, then kisses him. When he backs away his eyes are werewolf blue, and his claws are out too. “Fuck. I need help.” Derek leans his forehead against Stiles’. “I’ve been thinking about you. I keep thinking about you taking my knot like you were born to do it.”

Derek’s words are soft whispers against Stiles’ skin. They make Stiles weightless.

“I want to do it again. Right here, right now. I want to push you into one of those stalls and take you. I don’t care who might hear us.” Derek lets out a guttural growl, then pushes Stiles away from him.

Stiles stumbles back, hitting one of the sinks, and he’s lucky he gets hold of it because his legs still don’t want to carry him. He looks up anyway, right into Derek’s blue, blue eyes. “Meet me at the guys’ locker room in two hours.”

He takes a step forward, hesitates only for a second and then kisses Derek on the lips quickly.

He doesn’t wait for Derek’s answer, just gets a paper towel to wipe his hands, and runs out of the bathroom. He feels wild, ready to take over the world, and it’s all because of Derek. He has no idea what’s going to happen, but he’s willing to find out.

Stiles has never felt this way before, like his feet can barely touch the ground, like he doesn’t care about consequences as long as he gets to experience this, whatever this is with Derek.

Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s just physical. Maybe he’s going to get hurt. But Derek followed him, and Derek is going to come to the locker room, too. He may not want to, but he will come, and Stiles will make him remember that moment. He will make Derek so addicted he has to return.

And maybe one day, it will all make sense.