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"Welcome the great Conqueror Derek!", someone announced as he was let into the great hall of the Pechtar Palace. Everything was sand-colored and light, a big banquet already prepared. Normally, he had to conquer the countries, but this one had surrendered immediately upon his arrival. It was a welcome change.
Together with his soldiers, led by Boyd, he entered and was immediately led to the throne. Next to an advisor named Jordan, the king himself, Noah, greeted him. Noah was an older man with light hair and light eyes that had seen much more than his years would suggest. He looked tired and worn out, which made the task of taking over the small land all the more sensible.
Pechtar was not a large kingdom, but a small desert surrounded by larger territories. It had never been taken before, as it had good relationships and was one of the strongest nations in trade. Despite or perhaps because of its small size, it lay like a neutral point between larger kingdoms and did not interfere much.
But now, they were not spared, as Derek was not just out to take over territories, but to exact revenge. His older sister and rightful heir, Laura, had been murdered. Pechtar lay on the way to Frankonia, the kingdom of the Argent family, who were responsible for Laura's murder.
Following the mindset of "who is not with me is against me", Derek had assembled the strongest troops and had been marching through the lands for three years, marked by the conquest of several countries and lordships. Mercy had little place, as it was endless anger that drove him and did not seem to subside. Even the pleas of his mother, the current queen of Lupus, to return home and not let these feelings of hatred consume him had no effect.
The pain of this loss had only been able to be drowned out in the blood of his enemies. The more he killed, the more numb he felt. And it was this numbness that he longed for. His eyes, once a bright sage green and sparkling with curiosity, now lay dull in their sockets and had lost all their luster. His friends and younger sister Cora accompanied him on his campaign, supporting him in the hope that it would eventually be enough. It was completely unclear whether this state even existed.
But now, they were closer than ever. Through the annexation of Pechtar, they wanted to invade the hated kingdom of Frankonia. Almost the entire continent now belonged to the kingdom of Lupus, either through conquest, surrender, or clever relationships. And while his uncle welcomed this approach and wanted to establish an empire for the family, Derek couldn't care less.
He wanted justice for Laura, and if that meant mowing down everything that stood in his way, then so be it. Even if the years had not passed him by and he was not proud of everything he had done. Everything would be worth it as soon as he held Chris Argent's head in his hands. Then his goal would be achieved, and all the pain would leave him. That was at least what he told himself to motivate him.
But today was a time for a short break. His troops should rest well. Eat, drink, sleep, fuck. Everything they needed to be strengthened for their greatest battle. Because during the years, the Argents had not rested either, and had also gathered allies, some from overseas, and had prepared to defend their land and their king. It would be a war of eye for an eye, and the thought of it made Derek's fangs ache. For a moment, his eyes flashed red.
He had become the alpha, something he had never wanted. And yet, fate seemed to want to grant him this title and power. For his undertaking, it was certainly an advantage. So, he could become even stronger and make his troops the largest wolf pack in the world. They were not all werewolves; there were still humans among them, or other supernatural beings. But whoever wanted the bite, he did not deny it to them. It was a gift and a duty at the same time.
After the ceremonial greeting, he took his seat on the throne, which was almost celebrated. Although he could also smell envy and feel it, the people of the kingdom seemed really inviting. Pechtar was known for its diplomatic vein, and it was astonishing to see this in an entire culture.
To his left sat the former king, and to his right, Boyd had taken a seat. All sorts of food and drinks were served. None of them were poisoned, which surprised him. So nice as the countries often gave themselves, so completely without cunning, he was rarely welcomed.
But it was pointless anyway, as they could smell it as werewolves if something was poisoned. And they were equally immune to most things. The Wolfsbane-spiked wine was announced to him as a delicacy, so he didn't think it was an attempt to poison him. He sipped it throughout the evening and let himself be entertained by the show and stories of the land. His eyes watched his men and women, who were strong, loyal, and fearless, always by his side. They had earned the revelry, even if his tension never completely disappeared.
After half the evening, Boyd excused himself with his wife Erica, and Derek nodded to them knowingly. Although he couldn't show them how grateful he was to his best friends, he hoped they knew about his favor towards them. It had become hard for him to show feelings of any kind, which is why he often seemed very stoic. Even now, all the entertainment didn't even make him smile. Only when Cora clung to Isaac Lahey did he roll his eyes. He couldn't understand this puppy love, but he knew how devoted the two were to each other.
The evening slowly drew to a close, although the festivities still had a lively atmosphere. In his honor, a special number was now announced, and although he had been sitting on the throne for a long time and would have liked to retire to his chambers, he knew what was expected of him and enjoyed the festive atmosphere a little. He had very ambivalent feelings and a kind of physical and mental exhaustion. Probably, he could have even fallen asleep on the throne.
The musicians began to play a sensual piece, and the servants stopped their bustling behavior, so the large space in front of the throne was cleared. A few bars of music passed, and the people looked around curiously, wondering what would happen. From different corners of the room, men and women dressed in silk cloths, adorned with jingling coins and jewels, walked into the middle of the space. Barefoot, light-footed, with veils over their faces. Their skin glistened in the dim light, surely anointed with oil and fragrances.
Derek's eyebrow twitched slightly as he examined the dancers before him. They were all beautiful, and their elegant aura was immediately recognizable. They began a bewitching dance, their hips swaying, sometimes throwing clothes through the air and jumping. A young man caught his eye, his skin alabaster-colored and covered with countless moles and freckles. His chestnut-brown hair swung full and lush in rhythm with the music, and under the veil, full, sensual lips hid. In his honey-brown eyes, mischief swirled, which could be seen in the slight folds at the edges.
He was not the only one who seemed to be affected by the dance. The bewitching performance brought some of his men to wolf-whistle and rub their hands together. He himself dug the claws of his right hand into his thigh to maintain some composure. The young man seemed to be watching him, and as he danced, he came closer and closer. At one point, he even sat down on the empty seat where Boyd had been sitting and stretched out his arm, dancing, with his hand tentatively stroking Derek's cheek. His hips didn't stand still but showed excellent where his talents lay.
An unspeakable hunger overcame him, and he knew it was his wolf that was more than taken with this creature. He sucked in the spicy cinnamon scent of the dancer before the latter disappeared among the others and they continued their performance. A quarter of an hour passed, with bodies bending in directions he didn't think were possible. Not without pain. All of the dancers had incredible flexibility, and he wondered how well they would be usable in combat.
But his attention was still drawn to the young man, who stood out from the others. His entire aura was simply different, and although they all strode with perfection in their movements, he had almost something clumsy, hasty, and sometimes choppy about him. For some reason, that appealed to him, and his wolf growled almost possessively.
The music ended, and the dancers bowed to the thunderous applause. Some of them would probably be led to the tents and chambers of his men and women, if he interpreted the hungry glances correctly. "My lord, would you like to have any of them in your chambers?" Advisor Jordan suddenly stood beside him, which he hadn't noticed.
He looked at them all, lined up before him, almost like sheep before the slaughter. He nodded once briefly and stood up, with Jordan accompanying him. His men became even louder and cheered him on. It was rare that he shared his bed with someone. Although he had a normal desire, perhaps even increased as an alpha, he usually didn't bother. Princesses couldn't cope with his rough demeanor, and there were many who wanted to whisper something in his ear. Then rather some lackey behind a barn. He wasn't picky about genders.
He walked along the dancers, noticing how some flinched or held their breath. How some lowered their gaze. And although he didn't sense much fear from them, it was still there. He didn't show that he had already made his choice, but walked along them several times, first quickly, then slowly. In the last round, he examined them very closely, sucked in their scent, tried to look into their eyes. Finally, he stopped in front of the young man, who was almost as tall as him and not as slender, but wiry.
"Him," he said briefly to Jordan, while looking into the dancer's eyes. This one had not flinched, had looked at him openly all the time, with the mischievous sparkle still in his irises. "An excellent choice, my lord," Jordan said and let the dancer proceed. Derek returned to the throne, the other dancers dispersing, some of them landing on the laps of his men.
He didn't want to leave immediately and seem too eager, so he stayed at the festival for a while longer. He exchanged a few words with Noah, mostly concerned with what troop strength he could find here. It was self-evident to him that these now belonged to him and would fight with him.
After another half hour, he got up and wished his soldiers a good night, jokingly warning them not to overdo it. Some saluted sloppily, while others had already fallen asleep on their chairs.
He was accompanied in the direction of his designated chambers, but waved Advisor Jordan off, as he only had to follow the scent of the dancer to know where he was going.
This scent was amazingly strong, hardly mixed with other scents, as he entered the room. The young man was waiting on his bed, still dressed in the dancer's outfit. The veil was gone, revealing a well-formed face with more moles. Derek approached him and grasped his chin with his thumb and index finger to examine him closely.
His eyes were adorned with dark, long eyelashes, which his wolf would have loved to lick. He had rarely had such a strong reaction to someone, and he had to really hold back his claws. "What's your name, boy?" he asked.
"They call me Stiles, my lord," the other replied with a slightly hoarse voice. Such a voice Derek had never heard before, and again, he couldn't help but be affected by it. They looked at each other for a long time, Stiles eventually licking his lower lip very offensively. The tension between them was palpable.
Stiles exuded a kind of self-confidence, as if he had Derek in his hands. That didn't please the latter, which is why he turned away to undress. He waved the other over to him. "Help me," he ordered briefly, and the other jumped up to obey. Although he had something challenging about him, he obeyed immediately.
"A bath has been prepared for you, my lord," Stiles explained as he carefully slid over the armor and fabric on Derek's skin to open the clasps and straps and help him out of his clothes. The werewolf's muscles groaned, and a warm bath sounded perfect. After he was completely naked, without a spark of shame in his body, he simply nodded. In the hope that the other would understand and show him the way.
Stiles seemed not to have fallen on his head, as his eyes briefly inspected the other before he moved. Derek's wolf burst with pride as the other inspected him, tensed his muscles, and swelled his chest. The other's full lips twitched, as if he had noticed this. Before words could be spoken, he led him to a side room where a bathtub was already waiting.
The water steamed and emitted the scent of ethereal oils that supported relaxation. Derek lay down in it, briefly submerging before leaning back. Stiles began to wash him with a warm sponge without being asked, also shampooing his hair. The werewolf closed his eyes, enjoying it.
As Stiles went underwater with the sponge to clean his washboard stomach, Derek quickly grabbed his wrist. His eyes opened again, and with the proximity, they looked at each other intensely. Derek's free hand stroked the other's cheek, caressed his face, and then his fingers dug into the chestnut-brown hair, pulling him closer.
Their lips met not tentatively, but firmly and warmly. Derek's tongue was already penetrating the other's mouth, plundering it. His hand wrapped around the younger man's neck, so he couldn't escape. Stiles' tongue wrapped around his, and he felt his fangs dropping. A low whimper from the other made him release the kiss.
"Come in," was his next brief order. Without hesitation, the dancer undressed and Derek watched him unashamedly, his gaze becoming hungrier. Afterward, alabaster legs stepped between his, and the other sank into the bathwater with a sigh. Some of it splashed over the edge of the tub, but they didn't mind.
Derek was immediately back in the other's close proximity, his arms wrapping around him, and his lips claiming the other's again, before he devoted himself to his skin and inhaled the scent at his neck. He could hardly prevent himself from shifting into beta mode, but he didn't care.
Stiles' hands rested on his shoulders, and he gave himself to him, arching his neck and chest towards him, which impressed his wolf immensely. He licked over the other's nipples, which brought a soft moan from his mouth. He felt not only his own hardness but also the other's, and he pulled him closer, so they touched.
With his hands, he reached for the other's, and shoved them underwater, making it clear what he expected. The honey-brown eyes had become a bit darker, looked very understanding, and skilled fingers wrapped around his length. Derek let out a low grunt, his own hand firmly grasping the other's length. He was not brutal, but also not very gentle, and immediately set a relentless pace. His lips were back on the other's, and his tongue was almost doing the same.
Neither he nor Stiles lasted long before the first orgasm overcame them, and they ejaculated into the water. Their eyes, which had been closed, opened again, and they looked into the water, where their semen now swam visibly. Derek's fingers stroked through the white foam and rubbed some of it onto his own pecs and also onto Stiles' skin, especially his neck and nape. The other endured this with a curious gaze.
After he was satisfied with his work, the werewolf got up unannounced and left the bathtub. His penis was still half-hard, as this was only a small prelude for him. He didn't bother with a towel but shook himself and walked back into the bedroom. He would dry quickly due to his increased body temperature.
Stiles was still a bit dazed before he knew what was expected of him. He quickly got up, slipped in the tub, but managed to catch himself before he hit his head on the copper edge. With a towel wrapped around him, he followed the other, drying himself off on the way.
Derek was already sitting back on the bed, his legs wide apart, his hand lazily stroking his dick. The other dropped the towel on the way and crawled submissively between the strong legs of the other. They looked at each other intensely again, and Derek couldn't help but notice something flashing in the other's eyes, which drew him in.
His hand found the pale face again, and his thumb stroked possessively over the lower lip. His other hand was still working on his penis. Their gazes fell to it, and Derek raised an eyebrow challengingly. It was almost eerie how they understood each other without words.
Stiles bent down, his fingers replacing Derek's, and opened his lips without much fuss to wrap them around the warm glans of the other. A low "Fuck" escaped the werewolf's lips. He sank back into the pillows, his arms behind his head, enjoying the spectacle.
The younger man sucked first somewhat tentatively and licked his slit before taking him deeper and bobbing his head up and down. He seemed very practiced in this. "You're good," Derek praised, and smiled slyly, which earned him an almost malicious glance.
The other held him at the root and tried to get as much of him as possible into his mouth and throat. But even the strongest troopers had problems with that. He made up for it with eagerness, and his eyes remained directed upwards at Derek, which almost drove him crazy. Although it was Stiles who sat between his legs and gave him a blow job, he felt almost like the submissive due to this intense gaze.
His legs stood up, and he pushed slightly with his hips, not really thrusting, but showing the other who had the power here. The brief gagging in his throat didn't stop him from continuing this behavior. Derek knew that his eyes kept flashing red due to this "challenge", but he couldn't help but admire it.
And faster than he realized, another orgasm rolled over him. Stiles hadn’t earned this reward, so Derek's fingers dug into his hair, and he pulled him away. Warm, thick stripes of his semen landed on the other's face, which finally made him close his eyes. He shook off the last drops onto the other's skin, enjoying the sight. The glint in the dark, long eyelashes was something to see.
Stiles tensed up, and his lips were already open, a short scent of anger rising from him. He was expecting something to happen. But instead of words, he closed his mouth again, opened his eyes cautiously, and got up to wipe his face with the towel that had fallen to the floor. Derek had to hold back the growling of his wolf, who wanted the other to remain marked. Pragmatically, however, he could understand why it shouldn't dry on the other’s skin.
Both breathed deeply for a few moments, the spicy cinnamon scent of Stiles enveloping him completely. He tapped the empty sheets again, beckoning the other back to him. It didn't take long for him to lie down again.
His hands quickly grasped the other's hips and turned him around, so he stood on all fours in front of him. Pressure between the shoulder blades brought Stiles' face to the bed, and his ass rose higher. A furtive glance over his hip, almost malicious again, before he smoothed out.
Derek could only react with a smirk. The other probably thought he would take him now. But that was not the plan yet. No, it had been way too much fun so far. And he wanted to savor every second of it. Also, his stamina as a werewolf was higher than that of humans.
His hands grasped each half of Stiles' buttocks, which he first admired closely. All the dancing had really given him a wonderful body, and the two round apples in his fingers were proof of that.
His face bent down to it, and he sniffed the crack before spreading the buttocks apart and doing it directly to his hole. "Iekh," he heard from underneath, and felt how the other's muscles tensed. He grinned against the soft flesh, his nose gliding along the perineum and the peach-fuzzed testicles. Then he went back up, with his tongue thick and wet, spread out over the skin.
"No," whimpered from underneath, hands grasping the sheets, shoulders stiffening, and the brunette wanting to wriggle away. But he didn't let that happen. His fingers held him fast at the hips, dug into the flesh, and he went to town like he had no care in the world.
All the small noises and tense muscles spurred him on, and the incredible scent was almost like a drug for him. His tongue penetrated the warm, wet heat of Stiles, licking the folds along and trying to get as deep as possible.
The body under his hands and under his tongue began to tremble, and he could feel the struggle in the other. He didn’t want to enjoy it, and yet his cock twitched, and his testicles also drew up. It was somehow sweet that the other wanted to resist the experience. But Derek knew about his skill. In addition to his tongue, he pushed a finger into him and carefully felt for the holy grail in every man's rectum. The small nerve bundle that stood out awkwardly and was immediately rewarded with firm pressure as soon as he discovered it.
The buttocks around him tensed up again, and he heard a moan, which was stifled in the bedspread, while the semen shot out of Stiles. He got up to behold the spectacle in all its glory and to look into the other's face, which had become slightly glassy.
The wolf in him triumphed at this reaction. Stiles now looked completely taken apart, and they had not yet reached the main course. Earlier, he had discovered a vial on the nightstand, which contained oil with which he wanted to prepare the other.
He coated his fingers generously with it and then returned to the scene, inserting a finger into the other. The other jerked slightly, probably because he had dozed off in the meantime. Their gazes met again, Stiles now a bit clearer, and they simply looked at each other while Derek fingered him. For a moment, he considered taking the other's hand, holding it, but he quickly discarded the thought. That would have been almost loving, which this wasn't. It was a pure outlet.
A second finger joined the first, and after a while, a third. The other finally came out of his stiffness and worked with him, pushing his lower body towards him. Derek rewarded him with a brief prostate massage, which he interrupted before the other could come again. A malicious glance and pouting lips were the result, which made him chuckle. He tried to hide it against his shoulder.
He spread his fingers extensively, knowing what device and diameter he was equipped with. His little finger also slipped in, just to be on the safe side. Normally, he rarely had such patience, as his tete-a-tetes usually had to be quick. It was a pure in-and-out to satisfy his lowest desires and keep his wolf's urge in check.
Today and here, however, he had the time, so why not use it? Also, the dancer had fascinated him from the beginning, which is why he wanted to drag it out a bit. They seemed very compatible, at least physically, and that was something he rarely experienced. Maybe he could take him as a sex slave into battle. Having a pre-warmed bed in his tent had its advantages. But usually, he didn't have time for indulgences in battle. He was merciless when it came to advancing, and he rarely gave himself and his troops a break. Anything that could distract him was not welcome.
The twitching and gaping that Stiles' hole now did after Derek pulled out his fingers, however, he enjoyed watching. He wiped his fingers on the bedsheet, leaned back, and crossed his arms behind his head. A pose he had taken earlier today. Let's see if he couldn't provoke the other a bit. His legs were stretched out wide again, his cock rising, and he demanded, "Show me how much you appreciate your new King."
Stiles slowly got up, his eyes never leaving Derek's. Again, a flash of anger was visible in them, but he turned around slowly and crawled closer on his knees. His fingers found the vial and moistened them with the remaining oil, which he then applied to Derek's penis. As the latter now gleamed in the dim lamp light, the dancer knelt up and maneuvered him between his own ass. One hand on the glans, one on Derek's shoulder for support.
Derek enjoyed the sight before him and licked over the chest offered to him, which was so close to him. Stiles' skin had taken on a rosy blush that spread across his cheeks, ears, and neck, down to his nipples, and made the freckles on his skin pop even more. Honey-brown eyes watched exactly what he was doing, while the other slowly sank down.
Derek's brick penetrated the other's warm, wet tightness, and it was good. His abdominal muscles tensed inevitably, as he could have come immediately. As everything of him was inside the other, the latter's head fell back onto his neck, and he sat still for a moment, his lips open in a silent moan. His neck offered a delicious sight, which the werewolf couldn't resist.
His hands wandered to the other's hips and stayed there, holding on but not determining. After he had already left several hickeys on the skin, two hands grasped his face and pulled him away from his activity. He wanted to growl, but then a soft lip pair landed on his, and he was placated.
Slowly and steadily, the hips in his lap moved to a seductive belly dance, while the tongue in his mouth almost did the same. He felt how his fangs dropped again, and his body also shifted into beta mode. It was simply his nature and the wolf in him, who wanted to come out and take what he considered his.
Stiles licked over his fangs, which made him jerk up slightly. It was rare that humans appreciated his features; usually, it only happened among werewolves. Therefore, it was all the hotter that he had done it.
The pace picked up a bit, and between the kisses, there were always pauses where they simply looked into each other's eyes, breathing the same air. Stiles' arms were wrapped around his neck, and his heart was racing, which Derek could not only hear but also feel in his cock.
The other's hips rotated, and his entire upper body danced on Derek, as fluid as if he were water. That brought him to awe, watching this. The tension between them rose like a drawn bow and almost took his breath away. He felt the liquid lava rising inside him and was now the one who threw his head back, closed his eyes, and just wanted to enjoy.
But the rush he expected didn't come. Instead, something cold and sharp pressed against his throat, and this time, he couldn't hold back the growling. His eyelids sprang open, his irises blood-red, and he snarled.
Stiles' face, while his body still smelled of lust and acted accordingly, expressed massive anger. His eyes were darker, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, and his teeth dug into his lower lip. Derek wanted to react, but Stiles pressed the small, sharp knife against his throat, piercing the skin, and drawing blood.
"Ts ts ts, the blade is soaked in Wolfsbane," were the first hoarse words in a long time. His body language became even more triumphant, as if this had been planned from the beginning. And probably it was.
As if this threat could stop him, Derek's hand quickly grasped Stiles' neck, his claws cutting into the flesh. The other hissed and increased the pressure of the blade. The werewolf felt the burning of the poison, how it spread through him like a vine.
"I'm gonna rip your throat out with my claws," he spoke quietly and angrily.
"I'll cut your throat, then we're even," came back from the other, who didn't seem intimidated but ready to take on this challenge and make this sacrifice.
What both of them couldn't stop, however, were their bodies, which were still connected. And they were still dancing together. Derek could smell the precum dripping from Stiles' cock and knew how close he was to the climax. Despite this life-threatening situation, it didn't seem to detract from their arousal. Perhaps it even turned them on more. Was this the tension that had shown something ominous all along?
He couldn't help but thrust upwards, targeting the other's prostate, which made him moan. "An assassin, huh?" he thought aloud. "Maybe it was too easy." His second hand wrapped around Stiles' cock, and he stuck his thumb’s claw into the other's urethra, which made him jump and moan again. The hand around Stiles' neck became tighter, almost choking him.
On both faces, a grin formed, and they both had a certain glint in their eyes. This was something Derek hadn't felt in a long time; it was really thrilling. Stiles' free hand rested on the other side of Derek's neck, almost gently stroking, his thumb running up and down the strong jawline of the werewolf. His hips rode up and down on the other.
The scent of blood and Wolfsbane mixed with the scent of lust and anger that hung in the air. Derek panted, wanting to have the taste on his tongue as well. For others, this scent was probably alarming, but for him, the combination had something intoxicating. Maybe because the scent of blood had become so normal for him and was positively associated. Wolfsbane, however, not usually. Who knows what was wrong with him.
He also felt how his body shifted further, beyond the beta shift, not into his wolf form, but more towards an alpha form. His body became even bigger and stronger, his fangs longer and more menacing. And most importantly, the knot on his penis swelled, pressing against Stiles.
The latter watched all this with hate-filled eyes, yet there was something else in them. And his heart beat almost faster, as if he desired this monstrous form. Derek couldn't help but let out a growl, and although the blade cut deeper into him, he leaned forward to the other's neck, to his claws, which cut into the thin neck.
Stiles' head leaned back almost automatically, moaning, offering himself. "You want to kill me, and yet my alpha should possess you," he stated amusedly in his ear, which made the other growl back.
Although he could feel the wolfsbane taking effect in his body and knew he should do something about it as soon as possible, he couldn’t help but admire the other’s courage.
“I would never let myself be possessed!” the voice said again above him, and he lifted his head to look into the honey-brown eyes. He began thrusting upward, relentlessly, and as if feeling challenged, Stiles pushed downward. Maybe the plan was to kill him with amazing sex, too; that was definitely more plausible than with the blade, which no longer pressed hard enough against him.
But the pride with which the other had said that gave him pause. The wheels in his head began to turn, and as he felt his orgasm approaching again, he acted quickly once more.
Derek's hands grasped Stiles' wrists, pressing them firmly, so the knife fell to the side of the bed. He could feel the anger rising in the other, which made his cock twitch even more. All the excitement heightened his desire immensely.
Then he turned the other around, bringing his arms behind his back and holding them together with one hand. Now, only one hand was needed to hold him, his werewolf strength far superior to the human's. His free hand slid back to the other man’s neck, this time not scratching or choking him, but simply forcing his head back so that he now sat arched over him, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, his thighs uncomfortably tense. His own feet dug into the mattress so he could exert more force and thrust upward.
Into the silky, willing body. No longer missing the prostate, Stiles’s moans growing louder and louder. Before he came, tensing at first and then softening so much that he could press his knot into him and come as well. His pulsing literally visible through the other’s abdominal wall.
His knot sealed the entrance and chained them together, which the human didn’t notice at first, as he had come to rest on top of him, half-unconscious. Derek licked his neck, ear, and jawline, breathing him in deeply. His hands roamed over his body, caressing and touching him wherever he pleased. He tugged at his testicles and even stroked his member, causing him to twitch wildly, surely due to the overstimulation.
He just grinned. By now, he had pieced the puzzle together a bit more clearly in his mind. "I must say, I don't know whether to call it courage or foolishness, what you've tried to do here, Prince Mieczysław," Derek whispered to him, and immediately noticed how the other's body tensed up. The strength to do so was probably lacking, however.
"You didn't see it coming," the hoarse voice replied, and Derek looked to the side. The other lay on his shoulder, his eyes closed, his arms hanging limply down.
His fingers slid over Stiles, or rather Prince Mieczysław's shoulders, down to his biceps and forearms, to his hands. He intertwined their fingers and couldn't help but lift one hand to kiss the other's pulse point.
"At the beginning, I was suspicious, but a look at your worn-out father, and I believed the tale," he said slowly, taking on a more normal form again, while his knot still persisted and held them together.
Stiles' eyes opened, and he showed his teeth, as if he wanted to threaten him, probably because of the words against his father. That was something Derek could respect. Family was also very important to him.
He maneuvered them both into a different position, lying on their sides, embracing each other from behind. It had something of a loving couple in this position.
"It was wise of you not to start a direct fight. Your troops and population would not have survived," he concluded, scratching through Stiles' hair, which the other did not want to enjoy but did anyway.
"It was a matter of brute force; we would have come up short. I needed a different plan..." the brunette admitted, looking over his shoulder into Derek's face. In his eyes, there was no more hatred, anger, or malice, but almost a surrender.
That was a sight the werewolf didn't want to see, and he leaned forward to kiss the other again. Stiles wanted to turn away, but he didn't let that happen, holding his chin firmly.
Derek nibbled on his lower lip before continuing the conversation: "So, you pretended to surrender, so we would march in here unguarded. And the show? You couldn't have known I would choose you."
"That wasn't necessary... everyone would have been willing to do what needed to be done."
"And yet, you were one of the few who didn't smell of fear..." he said, stroking with his nose along the other's ear. He could feel the poison spreading deeper and deeper inside him; his right arm was now paralyzed.
“Advisor Jordan!” Derek finally called out, turning his head slightly away from the other man as he used his Alpha voice. It took a few moments before the man entered the room, looking slightly anxious. Stiles let out a gasp of surprise and quickly pulled the sheets up to cover his modesty. Humans and their ridiculous prudishness.
“Please bring me the wolfsbane antidote, unless you want me to bite your little prince’s head off,” he said diplomatically but firmly, addressing Jordan. The latter seemed relieved that Stiles was still alive and set off immediately.
Stiles turned slightly toward him again and glared venomously: “Little prince?!” he exclaimed indignantly.
Derek ignored that, however, and next called for Boyd. Boyd appeared faster than Jordan, his face impassive. “Find the soldiers who slept with the dancers. I suspect some of them are no longer among us. But don’t harm a hair on the dancers’ head; they’re valuable additions to our troops.” Boyd merely nodded and vanished again at once.
It didn’t take long for Jordan to bring the antidote, and Derek quickly downed it. It would take a while for it to take effect, but he shouldn’t suffer any harm from it. Before the Advisor could slip away, however, he made one more demand: “Send King Noah to me; I have something important to discuss with him.”
He felt the honey-brown eyes on him and turned to meet them. They were curious, but also calculating. “What do you want from my father? He had nothing to do with the plot!” he immediately went on the defensive and tried to pull away from Derek. However, they were still connected in their private parts, and his knot wouldn’t give way for at least the next two hours.
The werewolf saw no reason to share his thoughts, since they would be discussed anyway. He noticed how tense and somewhat annoyed the young man in his arms was becoming. Probably impatience as well. But he would just have to get through it now.
The door finally opened, and the former king entered. Despite his worn-out appearance, he radiated calmness and a certain pride. That had to be acknowledged. Stiles blushed slightly, even though the sheet covered everything important. So, he lay there, chained to their enemy. And if he was honest with himself, he had quite enjoyed the whole act.
Derek couldn't help but thrust into him again, just to make that clear. Before the other's moan could become too loud, the prince bit his tongue.
He was stubborn, and somehow, that impressed the alpha. Noah looked at the spectacle with as neutral an expression as possible, although his eyes probably exchanged a brief message with Stiles.
"Come closer," Derek asked him, and Stiles tensed up, his fingers digging into Derek's forearm. As if he was afraid the other would do something to his father. His pulse rose, and Derek could also smell some fear from him. Family seemed to be very important to Stiles, which confirmed Derek's plans.
As the king stood beside the bed, Derek sat up, pulling the other with him, which was unavoidable. He made sure the other was still covered with the sheet. Something he didn't have to do, but he wanted to show good will.
He looked into the light eyes, then cleared his throat: "Noah Stilinski, King of Pechtar, I, Derek Hale, heir to the throne of Lupus, ask for your son Mieczysław's hand in marriage."
Noah's eyes only widened slightly, in contrast to Stiles' reaction, who wanted to protest vehemently. Derek put his hand over the other's lips and grinned at his father over his shoulder. They all knew that there was no choice or free decision here, but Derek had only followed protocol out of respect.
Noah, on the other hand, respected this move and was grateful that Derek didn't kill Stiles but even wanted to marry him. He would have liked to ask if Derek was sure about this, as he couldn't yet assess who he had gotten himself into bed with. However, he had immediately noticed something in Derek's eyes that had been completely dull in the throne room earlier: a certain glint had returned. It was minimal, but it was there. And if that meant his son would survive this reckless action, he would agree.
He nodded briefly, then even went down on one knee and grasped Derek's free hand to kiss it: "I, Noah Stilinski, former King of Pechtar, give you, Derek Hale of Lupus, my son Mieczysław's hand in marriage, and with it, the rule over the kingdom of Pechtar. May your bond be strong and long."
Stiles bit Derek's finger and shook his head to free himself: "Papa, are you serious?!"
The former king got up again and looked at him briefly, determined. His son was not foolish and knew there was no other choice. Before he could lament further, Derek turned his head back to him and kissed him possessively. He didn't want to melt, but he did a bit.
Only when he almost ran out of air did the wolf let go of him, and he turned back to the father. "Prepare everything for the ceremony tomorrow," he ordered briefly. Noah nodded again and made his way to leave the room.
Stiles, who had finally caught his breath, turned to him, his eyes flashing darkly, and spat: "If you think I'll play the nice wife, you're mistaken! I'll find a way to kill you!"
Derek looked at him almost enthusiastically: "I'm looking forward to it." And he wrapped his arms around him again to kiss him. The other punched his chest with his hands, but it had no effect.
Outside in the corridor, Erica and Cora were leaning against the wall, listening to the spectacle since Boyd had been called out. "This won't please Uncle Peter," Cora sighed, and Erica just laughed. Who would have thought that this small country would be so much fun and turn so much upside down?