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Abdicated Entitlement

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To set your teeth to someone is to make a claim. It’s to plant your flag in the ground and declare that this is yours, and all that comes with that. You are now its caretaker. It is now your responsibility. You are synonymous. It is eternally binding yourself to something you do not have control of, and acknowledging that risk.

Derek does not make that choice lightly. He does not inflate himself with a grandiose image of what kind of man he is. He is an alpha, yes. He is the heir to a great family, yes. He oversees a glorious stake of land that many would do anything to live upon. But he takes all this with a damning weight. He wears his crown with solemnity.

Every bite he gives is the same as the pledge a knight bestows upon their liege. He is telling that mate, “I will protect you from anything. I will provide for you everything you need. You own me more than I ever could you.” He takes no flights of fancy. He does not grow his harem to feed his influence. He has no brood mares that bare his mark.

It is an unusual thing. A wolf his age, his stature. By right no one would question if he sowed his seed far and wide, if he created for himself a whole network of future heirs that would vie for his attention, his favor. To please a man as great as he could only spread more good into the world, would it not? They would be moving in his name, for his ideals.

And yet.

Derek has only bestowed his bite thrice in his life, and mostly to what some would consider unremarkable mates. His best childhood friend. A once bitter rival. A desperate street urchin. Jordan, Jackson, and Isaac were the envy of all the high born wolves in neighboring regions. They had no political alliances. They had no formal etiquette training. They gave nothing back to Derek.

At least that was how it seemed. But the public did not know of how Jordan assured Derek he was growing into a great man, for he had seen the alpha in his childhood. They could not tell that Jackson honed his sharpness against an equally cutting mind. They were not privy to the tendernesses Isaac taught him, the empathies he coaxed to bloom.

And now the newest boy was questioned the most. Stiles was not even a wolf. A fox, in their court? He had no manners. He hid not his opinions nor his body. He thought them all fools and had no issue with telling them just that. He was a wicked, little thing. A scavenger. A cheat.

But Derek had made love to him beneath the citrus trees and begged to bestow his bite upon such fey flesh. Stiles was sweating and wriggling beneath him, the fox rarely ever stopped moving. Even as Derek lied heavily upon him, their muscles twitching from the strain of their passions, he wormed and flopped and kicked.

Derek licked at the salt from their labors, sucked at his succulent pink tits, threatening to teethe. He dragged his blunt, bottom teeth along a protruding clavicle, threatened to prick at the hinge of Stiles’ jaw with his canines. “Take my bite, bare me kits. I will give a home to thee, as thee has never known,” he murmured. Derek chewed at Stiles’ lips, scraped at his chin, pulled at an earlobe and gnawed at the naked shoulder.

“What could you offer me the forest cannot?” Stiles teased, eyes all aglitter with mischief. “I eat my fill. I bathe in sweet waters. I sleep where I wish and bow to no jester in royal finery.” He wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, used his heels to encourage the alpha deeper, even as Derek was nearly mad with waiting to claim his mate before he could knot.

Derek whined as he sucked at the hollow of Stiles’ throat, drifted down to his belly to lick at his navel and hum at the spot his children would grow. “You will have my pack. I offer thee not just mine love, but the love of the harem before thee. Brothers, lovers, partners to carry thee through this formidable life. Be another of us. Leave yourself to become a collective as we orgy in the ecstasy of adding another.”

Stiles’ breath hitches and his pulse climbs and Derek can feel his veins throbbing beneath his lips. He moans and licks at them, unable to stop himself from biting, hard. He does not break the skin, would never without spoken consent, but he gives Stiles a taste. He makes the fox buck beneath him as his eyes roll back and his pretty, pink cock spurts precum in pleasure.

Derek pulls away with strings of spit tethering them, with a bruise already beginning to form where his mouth once was. “I will bring thee every pleasure, hold thee through every heartbreak. Be mine, be mine, be mine.” With his nose he circled the spot he would lay his claim, breathed heavily upon it, smacked his fat, breeder balls against Stiles in a plea to put them to use.

Stiles waited his moment to think it over, even as the decision had been made long ago. He laughed breathily, made a considering noise that caused Derek to growl. “Fine then. Take me, you brute. Fuck me till I scream and then carry me to your chamber to fuck me more.” Derek snarled and sank his fangs in deep. The gush of blood was hot and rapturous. It overflowed from his lips and ran down his chin. His eyes fluttered close and he shoved his knot inside just in time to spray gouts of his seed inside his new mate.

He lapped at the wound and bore down harder when Stiles pulled at his hair, arching his back and following his alpha over the edge. When the euphoria died down and he was able to tear himself away, Derek inspected his claim, noting it had been his most violent yet. The scar would be exquisite. He kissed it with bloody lips and smiled at Stiles’ admonishing hiss.

“We are forever one.” Stiles hummed in pleasure at him, leaned forward to lick at his teeth. Derek did not need a harem his castle could not hope to contain to be happy. He just needed this.