Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sterek
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Jeff Davis et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: under 18, post season 3, magical heat
Summary: Stiles has been hit by magical backlash and he goes to Derek for help without really knowing why.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a 500wd flash fic for this week's Drabble Cascade #26 (prompt word heat), but it grew a bit, so just think of it as six of those back to back :). Thanks to Soph for sorting out the grammar and spelling.
Word Count: 3,282
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Stiles did not understand what the heat under his skin meant. All he knew was that he was almost willing to scratch his own flesh off to stop the prickling that would not leave him alone. It was like his ADHD had flared up and was totally focused on the nerve endings right under the surface. He couldn't think about anything else.
He just about remembered being hit with something, but he couldn't remember what. There had been an explosion. No, that wasn't right, a magical explosion, that was it, but he didn't know where or even when actually. He didn't know why he was banging on the door of the loft either, or how he had got there.
Then Derek was right there; Derek who had only been back in town three days; Derek who had actually called on Scott as soon as he got back to offer his allegiance to the local alpha; Derek who seemed way more relaxed than when he left. It was funny, Stiles could remember all that, but he couldn't recall using the elevator or climbing the stairs.
"Derek," he said and all but fell into Derek's arms.
Where his face accidentally touched Derek's neck the heat increased, but it felt so much better. This wasn't the annoying prickling, this was the warmth of a fire, slightly too close, but it made him never want to move.
"Stiles, you're burning up. What happened?"
As he spoke, Derek manhandled him into the loft and went to make for the couch before changing his mind and heading to the bed instead. It was soft, but Stiles whined in displeasure when Derek let him go.
"No," he said, reaching out, because the prickling came back, "touch me, please."
Derek looked unsure, but sat back down again when Stiles made a noise of distress. Stiles didn't really care what he was doing as he burrowed against Derek's side, lifting Derek's shirt until he had skin contact. It felt so much better he couldn't even explain it. As long as Derek stayed right there he would be happy.
For a few moments Derek sat there stiffly and the part of Stiles' brain that was still working was sure Derek had no idea what to do with him. However, most of him didn't care and eventually Derek moved them round and back a bit into a more comfortable position. Derek also pulled out a phone.
"Scott," Derek said after dialling, "Stiles is here, there's something wrong with him."
Stiles couldn't hear what Scott said, but it sounded loud.
"Of course I'll keep him here," Derek replied, "and you'll bring Deaton?"
That seemed to be that, of course Derek always had been efficient with words. Stiles really wasn't thinking about much except how good Derek's skin felt against his own. He would have squirreled further under Derek's clothes, but he did have just a modicum of reason left and it was telling him there was only so far Derek would let him go before fleeing. He definitely did not want Derek going anywhere.
"What are you doing?" Scott asked and Stiles realised time had to have passed, but he hadn't really noticed it.
"As soon as he came in he latched on," Derek said, moving a little, but not actually trying to get away, "and when I tried to let go he seemed to be in pain."
"He's under your shirt," Scott pointed out and Stiles might have laughed if he could have been bothered, but he was too focused on Derek.
Derek smelled really nice.
"Stiles," that was Deaton and he lifted his head a little, because Deaton was usually important, "I need you to let go of Derek for a little while. I promise I'll let him come back in just a moment."
Stiles whined; he definitely did not want to do that.
"Please, Stiles," Deaton said in his usual calm tone, "it is very important."
He looked at Deaton through his eyelashes and he could see the man's expression was serious.
"It prickles," he said, "makes me want to dig my nails into my own skin."
"I promise it won't be long," Deaton said. "Derek will stay right here."
He looked at Derek and Derek nodded in that stoic way Derek had that did things to Stiles he didn't usually like to admit to.
It took a lot of resolve for him to pull away and the prickling did come back, even more intense this time. He shoved his hands under his arms before he could do himself any damage.
"Hurts," he said, because it had gone from annoying to painful.
"Please give me your hand," Deaton said, so Stiles did.
He yelped and grabbed it back as it felt like he was being burned. He really, really wanted to go back to Derek and he made a desperate noise as he tried to hold himself still. When Deaton nodded, he all but threw himself on Derek and he didn't care what he looked like or who was watching, he shoved his hands under Derek shirt and clung on.
"What's going on?" Derek wanted to know.
"Beacon Hills has been visited by the Fae," Deaton said and Stiles did his best to listen while trying to decide if he could get away with some nuzzling. "One of them wanted Stiles as a consort."
The image of a tall, beautiful woman filtered into Stiles' mind. She had blond hair, but in the memory it changed to red and her features shifted to look a little like Lydia. She was smiling and Stiles didn't feel afraid, just confused.
"Stiles was trying to let her down gently, but one of the other Fae was jealous, so he sabotaged her magic," Scott added.
"It was all very Midsummer Night's Dream," Deaton added; "it was supposed to humiliate her and Stiles, but something happened when it hit Stiles. We are not sure if it was the after effects of the nemeton or simply Stiles himself, but the magic exploded and warped. Stiles is now, for want of a better term, in heat. He disappeared before anyone could restrain him."
"Then shouldn't he have gone to Lydia's?" Derek asked.
"We had assumed the same thing," Deaton replied, "and that is where we were when you called. However, it seems Stiles came to you instead."
"Why?" Derek sounded honestly perplexed.
"Um," Scott said.
There was only one person Stiles had confessed anything about Derek to and that was Scott, one evening in a late night phone call when they both couldn't sleep. He hadn't said much, but he could tell Scott had put the pieces together. If he hadn't been so focused on not letting Derek go, ever, he might have leaped over to shut Scott up.
"I think Stiles' unobtainable person might have changed after everything that happened," Scott said, sounding totally awkward.
There was a few seconds of silence.
"Me?" Derek was clearly incredulous.
Stiles gripped a little harder in case Derek decided that enough was enough, but Derek actually just sat there. He had so many things he wanted to say, but his brain just wasn't up to it at the moment. He did his best to show what he was thinking instead.
"So what do we do?" Derek asked. "Will it wear off?"
"It will," Deaton said, "in somewhere between two weeks to a month and it is likely to get worse before it gets better."
A small noise escaped Stiles; he wasn't sure he could cope with worse. Clinging on to Derek for weeks didn't sound too terrible though.
"We cannot stay joined at the hip for two weeks," Derek said, even though he wasn't trying to pry Stiles off. "Isn't there something you can give him?"
"This is Fae magic," Deaton replied, "there is nothing I can do. The only fast solution is sex; that would break the heat."
Stiles perked up a little at that, but Derek had gone very still again.
"He's not even eighteen," Derek said.
"It would not have to be penetrative sex," Deaton replied, "what is required is an act of mutual gratification."
That sounded good to Stiles, but Derek was still rigid next to him.
"He isn't in his right mind," Derek pointed out.
"So am," he said, but his voice was muffled where he had his face buried in Derek's shirt.
"I'm sorry, Stiles," Deaton said, "but Derek is right."
Stiles lifted his head, because he had things to say about that.
"However," Deaton continued before he could say anything, "Derek, Stiles did come to you. This is very powerful magic, if there had been no one Stiles wanted or was willing to engage with we would have found him wandering aimlessly and it would have faded in hours. We had hoped to prevent him reaching Lydia and hence the next stage of the enchantment, but, unfortunately we were looking in the wrong place and are too late. His fixation will remain until you assist him or the cycle ends by itself."
Derek was silent and tense.
"And there's nothing else we can do?" Derek checked.
"The Fae were most apologetic," Deaton replied, "but also quite clear of the consequences."
Stiles twisted his head so he could look up at Derek and Derek glanced down at him. He knew the option he would pick, but he also knew his brain was not always reliable in checking for consequences.
"Then leave," Derek said looking away from him again; "Stiles and I will figure it out."
Derek almost sounded like old Derek, not new Derek and it made Stiles sad. He really didn't want to hurt Derek, only he couldn't quite bring himself to let go. The way Scott didn't actually argue, just went, told him they really were stuck.
"I'm sorry," he said, the knowledge that Derek was so completely uncomfortable giving him back just a little cognitive ability.
Derek closed his eyes and sighed.
"If only this was real," he heard Derek whisper, only it was so quiet he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to have been able to hear it.
The way Derek's eyes snapped open again he was certain that Derek hadn't even meant to say that out loud.
"Why real?" he asked, because that made a dent even in his very confused brain.
"You're so young," is what Derek said and that didn't really help Stiles at all, except that he was the king of jumping to conclusions.
"You like me," he said with something akin to wonder.
Derek kind of looked like he wanted to run, but knew he couldn't.
"Why?" He honestly could not think of one reason why Derek would look at him twice.
"You grow on people," Derek said eventually.
"Like fungus," was the response that popped out of his mouth.
For a second Derek actually smiled, but then it was gone again.
"You know this isn't like Lydia," Stiles said, trying to make his thoughts line up so he could get out what he wanted to say. "I never really believed I had a chance with Lydia. Well I suppose it's a bit like Lydia, because I never thought I'd ever had a chance with you either, but it's not the same. I fell for Lydia when I was a kid and puberty added levels, but it wasn't really grown up. I fell for you when I wasn't a kid anymore."
It didn't really make sense and was nowhere as eloquent as he had wanted, but it was the truth.
"You're still a kid," Derek replied.
"No," he replied firmly, "no I'm not. I might not be eighteen and I might still be an ADHD nightmare who talks too much, but I'm not a kid."
He was getting a crick in his neck where he was looking up, but Derek was looking down at him now, so he didn't move.
"I like the way you talk," Derek said in a way that suggested he thought he really shouldn't say it, but couldn't help himself. "It's grounding."
"You always tell me to shut up," Stiles pointed out.
"But you never do, that's why it's grounding," Derek replied.
Now Stiles felt warm inside for a totally different reason.
"I'm still sorry I'm forcing you into this," he said.
"I didn't exactly hold out for long," Derek replied and that was all new Derek, which made Stiles feel a little bit better.
He smiled as he snuggled a little bit closer. Now that they were headed in the right direction he didn't feel quite so spaced out.
"How do you want to do this?" Derek asked.
If Stiles had been perfectly lucid that would have made him blush, but all it did was make him excited.
"Skin," he said, "I need skin."
Getting out of their clothes was complicated, because Stiles definitely did not want to let go his hold on Derek, but somehow they managed it. Derek was completely uncut and semi-hard from all the grappling and for a while Stiles just stared.
"Are you okay?" Derek asked.
Stiles nodded; he was kind of speechless, because of how much he wanted to touch.
He only remembered safe sex when Derek reached over to the bedside cabinet and pulled out two condoms. It was when Derek tried to hand him one that he found himself shaking his head vigorously. He couldn't articulate why, but it just felt completely wrong.
"What's the matter?" Derek asked. "Do you want to stop?"
Stiles shook his head even more adamantly.
"It's these?" Derek checked, holding the foil packets.
Stiles nodded. It was totally irrational, but then they were dealing with magic. When Derek put the condoms on the bedside cabinet, Stiles finally felt like he could breathe again. Derek reached into the drawer again, this time coming back with lube and yeah, Stiles was totally down with that.
"Is there anything you particularly like or don't like?" Derek asked.
"No," Stiles replied, because his mind was totally in the sex-yes zone rather than anything sensible.
"Is it alright if I touch you?"
Derek was being so careful with him and he nodded as his voice kind of gave up. He was lying on his back on the bed, hand on Derek's arm while Derek was leaning up against his side and the heat under his skin was making him lightheaded. It might have had something to do with all the blood vacating his brain as well, of course.
When Derek squirted lube into his hand and reached out to touch Stiles, all bets were off. The moan that came out of his mouth sounded like it was straight out of a porno, but he couldn't remotely help it. Derek's hand on his cock had heat shooting all over his body and as Derek stroked him he almost came on the spot. Picturing Coach in frilly underwear was the only thing that saved him and he was almost grateful for how random his brain could be.
The fact that this was probably going to be over far quicker than he wanted was obvious, but there was nothing he could do about the arousal deep in his belly and the tightness in his balls.
As Derek shifted above him, straddling his legs, all he could do was gasp, because he'd never seen anything more perfect in his life. He was surrounded by ripped boys in the locker room every day, but they had nothing on Derek. He watched, breathless as Derek poured out more lube and then lined up their cocks so they were touching. Stiles whined in the back of his throat. He almost bit through his lip as Derek wrapped long fingers around both their erections and began to stroke. Reality was so much better than anything his brain had cooked up as he sank into the intense sensations. He was flush with heat and so very close to the edge.
When Derek reached down and took his hand, guiding it into place next to his own, everything seemed to increase that much more. Not only was Derek touching him, he was touching Derek.
"So close," was about all he could manage to say.
Derek made a noise that seemed to indicate the same thing and it was too much for Stiles. Milky fluid shot up over his stomach and chest and he was pretty sure he would have reared off the bed if he hadn't been pinned down by a full grown werewolf. Little lights went off behind his eyes and the heat flared into a momentary inferno, like a flash fire claiming everything in its path. Derek just kept on pumping them together and Stiles was pretty sure he was going mad with it until Derek shuddered and more hot liquid spurted over his skin. Then he yelled and almost managed to dislodge Derek, because the shockwave that ran through him was so intense every muscle in his body contracted.
By the time anything made sense again Derek was gently wiping him off with a wash cloth.
"Hey," Derek said when he realised Stiles was back with it, "are you okay?"
He nodded mutely. There was no prickling and he felt a bit twitchy, but no more than if he'd forgotten to take his Adderall. He even managed to sit up when Derek backed off a little.
"You?" he asked, since it seemed polite.
"Fine," Derek replied.
They had just had sex and Stiles found himself very disappointed it was over. There was no magic in his system forcing him on now, but it felt as if something was missing.
"Can I have a kiss?" he blurted out.
Derek, who had pulled his pants back on at some point, clearly hadn't been expecting that.
"Are you still feeling the heat?" Derek asked.
"No," Stiles replied, although the temptation to say yes just to get his way was quite high. "Please," he tried.
He saw the moment Derek realised what he was really asking for.
"Stiles," Derek said, "I'm not good for anybody."
"Everyone I love dies."
If Stiles hadn't had such a fast brain he might not have been able to counter that one, because Derek kind of had a point.
"Cora's not dead," he said resolutely, which was hard considering he was naked.
Derek got that pensive look that meant he couldn't argue with that.
"Look, I know I'm some stupid nobody from a half ass town," Stiles said, "but you seem to like me. I like you too, so maybe, y'know..."
"You're not stupid," Derek replied.
"Another plus point," he said and did his best to smile.
He could spend the next few months totally unable to look Derek in the eye, or he could go for what he wanted. Avoidance was so not where he wanted to go with this one.
"Stiles," Derek said and Stiles quickly reached out and put his hand on Derek's mouth, because he was almost sure it was going to be a rejection.
"I'll try and not be so loopy," he promised. "I can be sane, I swear. I won't bother you when you're doing the whole 'I need to be alone' thing. I'll let you throw me against walls for old times' sake."
He had more, but Derek pulled the hand from his mouth. Why he was so desperate for this, he couldn't quite chase down, but now he'd had a taste he wanted more.
"Don't change," is what Derek said and for a second Stiles wasn't sure what Derek meant.
Then Derek pulled him in and they almost clashed teeth, because he was so busy smiling he forgot about the kiss.
This entry was originally posted at http://beren-writes.dreamwidth.org/261045.html.