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The first time something happens between them is after a fight with some nomad werewolves who were travelling through the area looking for recruits for their pack. Derek is injured: a deep gash to his thigh and scratch marks gouged deep into his chest. He’s making pained little sounds when they get back to the Hale house and Stiles just can’t help himself – he has to kiss those sounds away.
He maneuvres Derek onto his side on the coach and kisses him.
‘You’ll be ok, right?’ he checks. ‘Your wounds – they’ll heal?’
Derek nods and Stiles surges forward again, kissing him. Derek pulls him closer and they rock their hips together slowly as they explore each other’s mouths, tongues meeting and caressing, adrenalin still coursing through them from the fight. It isn’t long before Stiles is getting close and he turns his face into Derek’s neck, kissing and licking. Derek moans, low in his throat and Stiles doesn’t even think about it: he bites down and sucks.
Derek’s hips stutter against Stiles’ and he rasps out a strained ‘Stiles!’ before going still. It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Stiles – he just made Derek come! - and it pushes him over the edge.
Afterwards, he lies with his arms around Derek and kisses him softly. He strokes his thumb over the mark he left on Derek’s neck, already fading and Derek breathes in sharply, eyes closed.
‘That was probably pretty stupid of me, right? Biting the throat of an alpha werewolf. I could have lost an arm.’
Derek opens his eyes and looks at Stiles for a second, then smirks and says ‘Go to sleep, Stiles.’
When Stiles wakes up, Derek is fully healed. He leans over Stiles on the sofa and presses a kiss to his lips before going to make coffee.
When Stiles leaves he kisses Derek again, one last time and presses his fingers against the place where he made the mark last night. It’s not there anymore but the way Derek looks at Stiles when he pulls away makes Stiles feel like he’s remembering it too.
It happens a few times after that, starts happening on a semi-regular basis, in fact: meeting up for orgasms and sometimes sleepy-times too. Stiles would never call Derek his boyfriend out loud – he wants to keep all his limbs, thanks very much – but in his head that’s sort of how he thinks of Derek.
One of his favorite things is biting at Derek’s neck until it’s red – until there’s a mark there that fits Stiles’ mouth. A mark that says ‘I was here. I was here with this alpha werewolf who looks like a GQ model and who, for some unfathomable reason, wants me back’. Stiles notices that the marks fade more slowly when Derek hasn’t been injured, when his body isn’t being kicked into healing mode by a life-threatening wound. He likes it – likes that sometimes when he goes home the mark is still on Derek – although it’s always gone by the next time Stiles sees him.
The day after the first time they go all the way (the first full day that Stiles spends as not-a-virgin!) they have a pack meeting. Stiles kisses Derek when he arrives and all the other pack members groan.
‘Shut up.’ Derek and Stiles say, in unison and Stiles grins at him. Then he notices the turtleneck that Derek is wearing.
‘Dude, you’re going to boil in that! Since when do you own a turtleneck? You spend half of your time shirtless anyway.’
Derek silences Stiles with a kiss and then calls the wolves outside.
From his vantage point on the porch (he’s pretending to do school work) Stiles notices that Derek is mainly shouting out orders today, instead of demonstrating his requests like usual and once Stiles sees him rub his neck, almost absent-mindedly. Stiles wonders if he’s thinking about last night and immediately he starts to remember: the noises Derek made, the heat of him, how good it felt, the way his thighs had trembled when he'd wrapped them around Stiles' waist. He notices that Derek is staring straight at him now and he gives a little wave. Derek shakes his head and calls the pack further into the woods so Stiles can no longer see them.
Afterwards when the pack drifts back to the house to collect their belongings Derek stands in front of Stiles, frowning.
‘What?’ says Stiles.
‘What was all that about earlier? What were you thinking about?’ he demands.
Stiles considers feigning innocence but instead asks ‘You could smell it?’
Derek frowns harder and Stiles wants to kiss it away. ‘Stiles, we could all smell it. What were you reading?’ Derek gestures to the book in Stiles’ hand and Stiles laughs.
‘It wasn’t something from the book, you idiot.’ He laughs again, unable to help himself. ‘They don’t exactly assign 50 Shades of Grey at school, you know. I was thinking about you. Us. I was thinking about last night.’
‘Oh.’ Derek says, ducking his head and smiling. It makes Stiles’ insides go warm because even after all these months a real smile from Derek is still something to treasure.
The pack trickle out, one by one, until it’s just Stiles and Derek left. Derek starts to clean up the mess that they’ve left behind and Stiles waits until Derek has his hands full before sneaking closer for a kiss. He tugs down the turtleneck and leans in, but he freezes before he can get his mouth on Derek.
‘Stiles!’ Derek snaps, putting the rubbish down and righting the neck of his top so that the bruise on his neck is no longer visible. Stiles saw it though and he follows Derek when he storms off into the kitchen.
‘What’s the matter?’ Stiles asks, trying not to panic. ‘Why aren’t you healing?’
Derek ignores him, turning his back and running the tap, shoving the dirty plates into the sink.
‘Are you sick? Is it me – did I do something wrong? Is it because we, because I-’
‘No.’ Derek bites out, shutting off the tap and aggressively scrubbing the crockery.
‘Derek.’ Stiles says. ‘You need to talk to me. What’s going on? Why haven’t you healed?’
For a minute Stiles thinks Derek is going to carry on ignoring him but then he sighs.
‘It’s not – nothing’s wrong, ok? I’m not sick. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Then why?’ Stiles says. He tries to turn Derek around to face him but Derek grips the edge of the sink and refuses to turn.
‘Derek!’ Stiles says, bewildered.
‘I just wanted them there for a bit longer, ok? I just. I just wanted to remember.’
Stiles forgets to breathe for a second, as that sinks in. ‘You can control how fast you heal?’ he asks, trying to make sure he’s understanding what Derek is saying. He tries again to turn Derek around and this time he complies, although he’s still not meeting Stiles’ eyes. He nods.
‘And you, you didn’t want the marks to heal?’ he checks again.
Derek shakes his head. ‘Not straight away.’
‘Because you like them. You like it when I mark you.’ It’s not really a question, not now, but Derek nods anyway. Stiles feels a bit light-headed – he keeps forgetting to breath.
‘Take your top off.’ He says, his voice gravelly. ‘Let me see you.’
Derek pulls his top over his head and Stiles breath whooshes out of him in one go because there are bruises the size of fingerprints over Derek’s hips. Stiles’ fingerprints. From last night. From where he’d gripped Derek so hard while he –
Derek shivers under Stiles gaze and Stiles closes the gap between them and kisses him fiercely.
‘You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Oh my God. How are you real?’ he murmurs against Derek’s lips as he kisses him over and over.
Derek smiles finally and meets Stiles’ eyes. ‘You like it too?’ he says.
‘Yes.’ Stiles says. ‘Yes, obviously, yes. If you thought I wouldn’t you’re crazy. I’d want you like this all the time if I... if I didn’t know how much of a possessive asshole it would make me sound. I’d want you to be walking around with my marks on you all the time.’
‘Me too.’ Derek says and Stiles’ knees feel like they’re going to give way. He knows it’s a bit messed up but their lives are a bit messed up so surely this is relatively normal for them. He kisses Derek again before moving on to his neck kissing over the mark, his mark. When he feels Derek’s breath hitch and his strained ‘Stiles, please, c’mon.’ he bites down.
Afterwards, when they’re lying in Derek’s bed tangled up in each other, Stiles leans up on one elbow and brushes the hair out of Derek’s face where he’s sweated the gel out. Derek has the sexiest bed hair. It’s ridiculously unfair that he looks so good all the time.
‘So, does all this mean that I could maybe call you my boyfriend some time – without the risk of having my head torn off?’
‘You want that?’ Derek asks, and he’s so ridiculous – how can he not know by now – how can he not tell how gone Stiles is for him.
Stiles smiles. ‘Yes, I want that. Do you?’
Derek laughs and it startles an even bigger smile on to Stiles’ face. Derek should laugh, always.
‘Yeah.’ He says, looking bashful. ‘I’ve wanted that pretty much since you threatened me in your dad’s cruiser and told me that you weren’t scared of me.’
Stiles leans down and kisses him. ‘That settles it then.’ he says. ‘Boyfriends, it is. And don’t think you can play it cool when the pack are here – it’s all out in the open now. Maybe I’ll have to come up with some new nicknames for you – how do you feel about Cuddlewolf? Sweetiecub? Snugglepup?’
Stiles shrieks as Derek tumbles him over, pinning his hands to the pillow.
‘No?’ he says, as Derek silences him with a kiss. The only sounds out of his mouth for the next half an hour are sighs and moans as Derek sets about making some marks of his own.