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Something Coming Over You

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Stiles pauses in the middle of a clearing, taking a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. He knows he needs to lay low, knows he shouldn’t be out tonight, not when he’s—

There’s a rustle behind him, and he catches the scent before he even turns all the way around. Fuck, it’s a wolf.

“What do you want, dog face?” he asks with as much bravado as he can muster.

“I could ask you the same, cat. Considering you’re in my territory,” the wolf says.

He steps close enough that Stiles can see his face through the darkness, and it’s…not what he was expecting. The werewolf is almost pretty, and Stiles feels his traitorous body perk with interest.

The wolf obviously catches it, because his eyes widen. “You—what are you doing out here? You’re in heat!”

“I am more than aware,” Stiles says through gritted teeth, because he can feel it ramping up now that he’s in the presence of another were. Last time he’d gone out while in heat, he’d been constantly propositioned by other werecats the entire night. And none of them had been attractive to him at all, so it had been very awkward. “But I also couldn’t afford to shred another mattress, so.”

To his surprise, he gets a nod of commiseration from the wolf. “Your scent is getting stronger,” he says. “You should get out of here, you smell far too good.”

Stiles isn’t a werewolf, so this guy shouldn’t even be tempted, but he definitely looks like he’s tempted.

And, well, Stiles is tempted too.

“What’s your name?” he asks, taking a casual step closer.

“Derek,” the wolf says, almost a growl.

“I’m Stiles,” he says, swaying into Derek’s space. “Do you want to fuck me?” And yep, that’s the heat doing its work of pushing aside his inhibitions.

He gets a pulse of arousal between his legs at Derek’s reaction, though, so he doesn’t mind too much.

“You want that?” Derek asks hotly against the side of his neck. “You want me to mate with you?”

“Fuck yes,” Stiles groans, because he desperately wants to be filled, and there’s a super-hot were right here willing to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been mated during one of his heats, so no way is he passing this up.

Derek takes a deep breath, nose brushing Stiles’ neck, then pushes him back against a tree. “Take off your shirt,” he growls, then drops to his knees, hands working at the front of Stiles’ jeans.

Stiles does it, not even paying attention to the rough bark against his skin—he’s far more interested in what Derek’s doing down below. Because as much as he’d like to have his dick sucked, he’s not sure he wants someone with their fangs out to do it.

But Derek just licks him, long and slow and teasing, as he works Stiles’ pants down his thighs. One of Derek’s hands cups his ass before slipping between his cheeks, and he feels Derek’s fingers slide in his slick before they find his entrance and press against it.

Stiles is so turned on, so ready, that when the tip of one of those fingers pushes in, his knees almost give out. He digs his hands into Derek’s shoulders, trying desperately to rock back into the contact.

Derek drags his tongue across the head of Stiles’ cock one last time, drawing a whimper out of him, before saying, “You’re further along than I thought.”

Stiles wants to roll his eyes at that, because he’s obviously fully in heat, but then Derek is grabbing his hips and pulling him down, and he forgets all about it.

Derek drags him into a kiss, his tongue sliding across Stiles’ teeth, and he suddenly realizes his own fangs are out, too. He can’t bring himself to care.

Derek’s hands are skating across his chest, sending sparks through him, and he feels his cock twitch against his belly. Derek scrapes his teeth along his throat, mutters, “Fuck, you smell good,” before twisting sideways and pushing Stiles down onto his hands and knees.

He trails his fingers along Stiles’ back, then rubs them teasingly behind his balls before pushing them inside him. Stiles lifts almost all the way off the ground trying to get them deeper, and Derek grabs hold of his hip, keeping him still.

“Steady,” he says, and Stiles hears the sound of a zipper seconds later.

He’s a little annoyed he’s not going to get to see Derek’s cock before he gets fucked with it, but he’s also way too turned on to wait.

Derek’s moving his fingers inside him, a slow, stretching tease, and Stiles squirms impatiently. Then Derek’s fingers are gone, and he’s mounting Stiles, mouth hot and open against his shoulder.

Stiles would make a ‘you know we don’t actually have to fuck like animals’ joke, but it’s turning him on a lot, especially when he feels Derek’s cock pushing right where he wants it the most.

Derek’s body pressed flush against his back, and Stiles can feel his abs clench as he tilts his hips forward. The head of his cock drags teasingly across his entrance a few times before catching on the rim and sliding inside.

Stiles lets out a shuddery little groan as Derek pushes all the way in, his legs automatically trying to spread wider, trying to get more.

Derek pants against the back of his neck for a moment, his whole body trembling, before he finally starts to move. The slow, steady pace of it makes Stiles tingle and ache, savoring the way Derek fills him up so perfectly.

He digs his fingers into the fine grass of the forest floor, trying to keep himself from shamelessly thrusting back at a rate that will actually get him off. Because as good as this feels, it’s making Stiles’ heat roil, and turning every sensations into something that goes straight to his aching dick.

He’s so turned on right now, he’s pretty sure he could come in thirty seconds if Derek would just let him ride his cock.

“What are you thinking about?” Derek suddenly growls, hips slamming forward in short, hard thrusts.

“You fucking me for real,” Stiles smirks, pleased. The scent of arousal around them is thick and heady, and he breathes it in, loving how much they both want this.

Derek’s just getting into a really good rhythm when he abruptly shudders to a stop, panting. “Fuck,” he grits out, his body painfully tense against Stiles’.

“What?” Stiles demands, a little disoriented because he’d been so close.

Fine tremors roll through Derek, and his stubble scrapes across Stiles’ shoulder as he turns his head. “I have to pull out, I was—I was about to knot you,” he says roughly.

What?” Stiles repeats, then he says, “Oh,” when he finally parses the words. “Wait, that’s a real thing?”

He can’t quite believe that’s a question he’s asking while a hot guy’s dick is in his ass, but he’s learned not to be surprised by the strange turns his life takes.

“You were about to find out how real it was,” Derek rumbles out, grabbing Stiles’ hips and pulling away.

“No, wait!” Stiles says, because while he’d always thought knots were fictional, he’d also always thought they were pretty hot. “I want it. I want you to knot me.”

A shiver rolls through Derek. “Are you sure? It’ll be quite a stretch, you’ll feel really full.”

Derek’s tone says so you probably won’t like it, but the words just send a wave of arousal through Stiles, and he only wants it more. He’s always been one for trying new things, after all.

He pushes his hips back against Derek. “That sounds perfect, so please fuck me now.”

Derek growls a little at that, and his teeth dig into Stiles’ shoulder, fangs sharp against his skin. He expects Derek to say something, but his hips just shove up tight against Stiles’ ass again, and he figures that’s answer enough.

Stiles takes a deep breath as Derek begins to rock into him, feeling intensely the slide of Derek’s cock inside him, Derek’s body surrounding him, like they’re merging together with no space between them anymore.

That probably shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Derek slides back enough to really pump into Stiles, before slipping into long, easy thrusts, almost like he’s teasing himself. Then he’s back again, grinding against Stiles with hard little jerks of his hips, like he’s trying to get in as deep as he can.

He stays flush against Stiles and circles his hips, letting Stiles really feel all of him, and it kindles a fire at the base of Stiles’ cock, making his abs flutter in anticipation.

“You need to come,” Derek says suddenly, and Stiles is in complete agreement.

Derek shifts his weight then, and it sends a wave of sparks up Stiles’ spine. He’s pretty sure he feels the edge of a claw against his dick before Derek’s palm is closing over him, beginning to stroke.

Stiles practically turns to jelly as Derek works him between his hand and his cock, because finally

He shudders as the sensations build, pushing him on, and then slams back into Derek hard as he comes, gasping and shaking with relief.

Derek’s still going though, rutting into Stiles in a way that feels desperate. Derek’s hand is suddenly gone from his sensitive cock, and instead grips tight to Stiles’ hip, pulling him back into his thrusts. Derek’s legs slide against his, trying for leverage, and his stubble grits against Stiles’ shoulder as he pants faster and faster.

The only warning Stiles gets is the sound Derek makes, low and wrung out, and then Stiles is abruptly full. He feels strange and overstretched for a moment, but then it starts to feel good, so good.

Derek’s twitching and bucking, deep in the throes of his orgasm, and that keeps moving his knot inside Stiles, just a little. It’s intense and overwhelming and like nothing he’s ever experienced before, and he drops to his elbows as the stimulation becomes too much, another orgasm roaring through him. His dick jerks against his belly as he comes, muscles clenching through the waves that feel like they’ll go on forever.

When he finally shudders through it, he realizes that Derek is still moving against him, hips surging and breathing ragged.

Stiles twists around, looking over his shoulder. “Oh my god, are you still coming?”

“Yes,” Derek grits out. “And I will be—” he gasps when Stiles moves again, trying to see better, “—for a little while longer.”

Derek’s not much for talking, so Stiles isn’t sure if he’s having one long, epic orgasm, or if he’s having a series of small ones, but either way it’s hot.

Hot enough that he clenches around Derek’s knot a couple of times, just to hear the noises he makes.

They end up lying on their sides after a while, with Derek kissing the back of his neck as he continues to shudder with pleasure, though the intensity seems to be decreasing. And every time Stiles gets hard from Derek’s moans and knot, Derek helps stroke him off while Stiles fucks back against him, which Stiles very much appreciates.

“You’re good,” Derek rumbles, nuzzling Stiles’ shoulder as his hand slides warmly up Stiles belly. “So good.”

He’s about to say something else, Stiles is sure of it, but then he shifts his hips a little and ends up sliding free. Stiles makes a little gasp of surprise and disappointment, and he’s pretty sure Derek does the same.

Then there’s a rustling sound, and Stiles turns to see Derek up on his feet. He yanks his pants up and then he’s gone, running off into the woods.

Stiles didn’t have quite as many orgasms as Derek, but he still had quite a few, so he’s way too sated to go after him.

His heat is over anyway.

Chapter Text

Stiles shows up in the woods almost every night for the next two weeks. He doesn’t quite like to admit it to himself, but it’s because he wants to see Derek again.

And, more embarrassingly, he wants Derek’s knot again. He can’t stop thinking about it—the way it’d filled him up, the way it’d made him come.

He’s practically craving it, and his fingers and toys aren’t enough to satiate him.

So he’s been out in the werewolf’s territory far too often lately, but he hasn’t seen Derek even once.

He tilts his head, sniffing. Derek roams this area so much he can’t get a clear scent trail, and it’s beginning to frustrate him. He turns back toward the path out of the preserve, and vows that tomorrow will be the last night he comes out here.

He has his pride, after all.

And Derek is obviously avoiding him. So if he doesn’t want a repeat of the awesome sex they had, then it’s his loss.

He grumpily goes home and jerks off a couple of times thinking about it.

Not seeing Derek again will be his loss, too.

 

*

 

“Last night,” Stiles mumbles to himself as he heads toward the clearing they fucked in. “Last chance.”

He doesn’t actually expect to find Derek at all, so he comes to a shocked stop when he sees him, leaning on the tree he’d shoved Stiles against last time.

Then Derek’s scent hits him, and he freezes, because Derek is definitely—

Derek must catch his scent at the same time, because he’s suddenly pressed up tight against Stiles, mouth open and hot against his neck. “Stiles,” he says longingly, almost a croon, and it sends a shiver through him.

“Derek, you’re in heat,” Stiles says, even though it’s obvious Derek knows. He finds it impossible not to curl his arms around Derek’s waist, his hands stroking soothingly down Derek’s back.

“Yeah,” Derek says agreeably. “And I tried to stay away from you, I tried, but I need you.”

It’s hard to focus with Derek grinding against his hip, but Stiles does his best. “Okay, I’m here,” he says. “But you know I can’t knot you, right?”

He wants to get that out right away, because he doesn’t like disappointing people. His dick is just a regular dick, it doesn’t have any special features (though thankfully it doesn’t have spines like a real cat’s, either).

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek says, dragging his lips against Stiles’ jaw. He doesn’t sound disappointed at all. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He punctuates it with another roll of his hips, and Stiles gasps in a ragged breath. All he can smell is Derek’s arousal, Derek’s heat, and he’s so turned on it hurts.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, trying to push Derek back. “But you need to get naked first.”

He can’t believe he’s about to have sex in the middle of the woods again, but he can’t say he’s regretting this situation, either.

Derek shoves his pants down first, of course he does, and Stiles can instantly smell his slick. It’s heady and sweet and Stiles licks his lips, admiring the fact that Derek isn’t wearing any underwear. He can’t resist stepping close and cupping Derek’s wonderful, muscular ass before slipping a finger inside him.

Derek, in the middle of taking off his shirt, lets out a shuddery moan and yanks Stiles into a kiss. But he can’t seem to decide what he wants more: his tongue in Stiles’ mouth, or Stiles’ finger in his ass, and he keeps shifting between the two while making low, hungry sounds.

Stiles ends up making the decision for him, and slides a second finger inside. Derek’s so wet it goes in easily, and he immediately arches his back, trying to grind into it.

“Stiles,” he moans out. “I need—”

“I know,” Stiles says, a little breathless. “Get this off.” He tugs at the shirt that’s still across Derek’s shoulder.

He steps out of the way, but keeps his fingers inside Derek, spreading and circling them teasingly. Derek flings the shirt off and looks at Stiles expectantly, chest heaving. Stiles leans in and kisses him again, tongue pressing dirtily into Derek’s mouth like a preview of the sex they’re about to have.

When Derek makes a needy moan, Stiles pulls his fingers free and pushes on Derek’s shoulders until he drops to his knees, then down onto his belly. Stiles makes sure Derek’s hips are resting on his discarded shirt, because that’ll be something nicer to grind against. The grass is soft, but it’s not that soft. He knows from experience.

He sheds his own clothes quickly, before Derek gets too impatient, and settles down onto Derek’s thighs. Derek makes a quiet sound and looks over his shoulder, expression eager and aroused.

Stiles leans forward and drags his hands down the broad sweep of Derek’s back. “You’re sure this is what you want?” He has to confirm, because sometimes heats result in impulsive decisions, and he wants to be sure.

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek growls out. “I really, really want this.”

He looks like he’s about to say more, but Stiles’ hands make it to his ass right then, and when he squeezes Derek lets out a shivery little moan. It sends a thrill down Stiles’ spine, and he begins to massage Derek’s cheeks, thumbs dipping gently between them.

Derek twitches a little, so Stiles applies a soft pressure there, dragging the pads of his fingers across Derek’s entrance, and he can tell that Derek is even wetter than before.

Clearly all this teasing has been good for him.

He’s tempted to draw things out even more, to bend down and taste Derek, to fuck him on his tongue until he comes. But he remembers how desperate he was when he was in heat, and figures it’s about time to give Derek what he needs.

He inches forward, letting his cock slide between Derek’s cheeks, and breathes in the heady scent of his anticipation. He uses a couple of fingers to nudge it downward enough, then begins to push inside.

Derek makes a pleased sound, bucking up a little beneath him.

Stiles tilts forward, bracing his hands on Derek’s lower back as he sinks the rest of the way in, until his hips are flush with the soft curve of Derek’s ass. He stays there for a moment, because Derek feels like he’s almost thrumming with energy, and it’s overloading his senses.

Then he arches away and rocks forward again, slow at first, trying to get a feel for it. He’s never fucked anyone like this before. He watches Derek’s shoulders bunch up as he tries to move with him, sees the way his head drops down when he pushes in deep.

He has to start really using his thighs, digging his knees in to pick up a good rhythm. Apparently he finds a good one, because Derek nearly throws him off trying to grind back into him, and his whole body spasms as he suddenly comes.

Stiles slows down, feeling the tremors rolling through Derek, and wonders if he should give Derek a moment to recover.

Derek lets out a low rumble as soon as he pauses, clenching around Stiles. “Keep going,” he growls.

And he does still smell like he’s in heat, so Stiles figures he needs more. He sharply rocks his hips, deciding he’s really going to make it count. He slides a hand up to squeeze the back of Derek’s neck, just to hear the sound he makes, then curves forward over Derek to fuck into him hard and fast.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the same level of stamina as a werewolf, but he works as hard as he can, ignoring the burn in his legs and the ache in his shoulders. He just wants to get Derek off.

It must be doing the trick, because Derek is making the best noises, body moving sinuously beneath Stiles’ as the pleasure takes him over.

But he’s too perfectly hot and wet around Stiles, and he can feel his own orgasm is building way too fast. He really wants Derek to come first—or come again, really—so he grits his teeth, shoving his hips in tight and circling them slow, then rolling into short, fast thrusts.

It makes Derek keen, claws digging into the ground as he ruts mindlessly against his shirt. That drives Stiles into a pace he can’t possibly maintain, but he doesn’t need to—Derek jolts beneath him, body surging up into Stiles as he comes with shuddery, relieved gasps.

That alone would probably be enough to push Stiles over the edge, but Derek is clenching tightly around him as he rides out the aftershocks, and it practically yanks Stiles’ orgasm out of him, hips twitching helplessly as he pushes in as deep as he can go.

He slumps down against Derek, shivering a little, and floats for a while in a post-orgasmic haze. But eventually his brain starts working again, and he blurts out the one thing he’s been wondering this whole time. “Why were you trying to stay away from me?”

For a moment Derek doesn’t react, and Stiles wonders if he’s fallen asleep. Then he says quietly, “Last time was amazing, and I—I’d never experienced anything like that.”

That’s probably good, because if Derek had orgasms like that regularly, he’d probably never get out of bed. It also makes Stiles feel special, and he tries not to preen.

“I knew what it meant,” Derek says, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. “And I got scared. That’s why I ran off.”

“What?” Stiles asks, perking with interest. “What does it mean?” There’s a blush on Derek’s cheeks, and it’s only intriguing him further.

“It means that we’re compatible. I—you—” Derek tries, stumbling. “You’re a werecat, but you could—you could be my mate.”

“And what, you didn’t want that?” Stiles asks, trying not to feel hurt. He and Derek barely know each other, after all. And Derek likely has better prospects, anyway.

He feels Derek sigh. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want that. I thought you’d turn me down if I asked for more.”

“More, as in a repeat performance? Because I’d be totally down for that,” Stiles says eagerly. “Or more, meaning a relationship?” He kisses Derek’s shoulder. “Because I’d totally be down for that, too.”

“I don’t think you’d really want that with me,” Derek says. He looks away. “I’m not exactly good at, um—at talking about how I feel. Or at dating.”

“And you think I am? I’ve been on like three dates in my entire life, Derek. I don’t know what I’m doing at all, but I’d like to figure it out with you.” He waits until Derek looks at him again. “I didn’t come looking for you just because I wanted you to fuck me again. It was because I felt—I hoped, really—that there was something between us.”

“There is,” Derek says, smiling now. He twists a little, and pulls Stiles into a kiss. “I know there is.”

 

*

 

(When people ask how they met, Stiles looks over at Derek and winks. Every time. And it never fails to make Derek blush as he recites the story they made up.)