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 "So, I have a favor to ask."

 Derek raises an eyebrow at him and stares. Stiles feels his annoyance rise, because when has he ever asked Derek for a favor and Derek has asked him for like eight okay and it just really isn't fair that he can make Stiles feel bad for this when he hasn't even heard what he has to say.

 "Is the favor letting you stand there and be annoying?" Derek drawls, the corner of his mouth twitching up at his own joke because he's that guy.

 "It's not really a hallway kind of conversation." Stiles mutters. "Can I come in?"

 "Stiles, I live alone in the building."

 "But your loft is warded against werewolf ears." Stiles snaps, finally just pushing past him. Derek lets out a long suffering sigh, but he doesn't physically lift him out again so Stiles takes that as consent. "Look, I can't really...bring this up to anyone else."

 This, at least, seems to concern him. "Not even Scott?"

 "Especially not Scott." Stiles shudders with the thought. "Look, you and I—we've sort of had sex. So you know my body."

 "We gave each other handjobs once, Stiles, and it was years ago."

 "But you've seen my dick. You would recognize if something was different with it."

 "Stiles, what the hell is this about?"

 "I have a...growth?"

 "Oh my god." Derek rubs a hand over his face. "Stiles, I'm not looking at whatever STD you picked up. Just go to the doctor."

 "It's not an STD, dickbag." Stiles snaps. "I know about STDs. This is not an STD. It's a phenomenon. I looked it up and all I got were weird answers and cancer, and knowing my life is probably both. But I wanted a second opinion from someone who knows what it looked like before."

 "I can't believe this."

 "Derek, please. I wouldn't do this if I had someone else to go to."

 "Fine." he sighs, waving a hand at Stiles crotch. "Let me see."

 "Ah, well...that's sort of where the favor comes in." Stiles laughs nervously. "I sort of...need you to have sex with me? So you can see it?"

 "What the hell, Stiles?"

 "Okay, fine!" Stiles throws up his hands. "The internet says I have a knot! A fucking knot, like a dog, at the end of my penis, and I'm freaking out and honestly I kind of hope it's cancer because who the hell has a knot and how am I ever going to get laid to a normal person with one?"

 Derek blinks at him for a solid thirty seconds before saying "Show me."

 "Sorry?"

 Derek raises his eyebrow again. "I said show me. You wanted me to look, so show me."

 "Wait, really? Ah...okay." Stiles fumbles with his pants for a minute before pushing them down. It's been awhile since he's been nervous about sex—probably since the last time Derek was looking at his dick—but he's nervous now. His hands shake when he takes off his shirt and he knows he's already blushing. "So, um, you can't really...tell right now. Because I'm not, like, hard, but...it's right here." He brushes a finger around the area that had swollen up just a few nights before.

 Derek stares clinically. It almost makes this easier. "And how did you notice it?"

 "I was having sex with a guy and it happened and he threatened to call the police before I told him my dad was the police. Then he just kicked me out. It was there for like fifteen minutes and I ruined my underwear and my jeans."

 Suddenly Derek's in his space, wrapping his hand around Stiles' dick. "Can I?" he asks lowly.

 "I think you just did." Stiles breathes, leaning into his shoulder with a sigh.

 He purposefully forgot how good Derek feels to him, the way his other hand settles against his lower back and encourages his hips to move, how he never looks away from what he's doing. How good he is at teasing Stiles just enough to get him hard.

 "Does it only happen when you come?"

 "Uh," Stiles swallows a little and nods. "So far."

 "Then I want you in my bed."

 Stiles shivers. "Well, you don't really have to ask me twice." he laughs weakly. Only Derek doesn't let him go. So he looks up and sees hunger, want in his eyes. But there's also fear. He swallows again. "Derek, if you don't want to do this..."

 "Of course I want to do this." Derek scoffs. "But I'm pretty sure I won't want to stop."

 "That was cheesy." he chuckles, wincing when Derek squeezes. "Ah, okay, okay. No teasing the guy holding my dick, got it."

 "I'm serious, Stiles."

 "That's always been your problem. You're too serious." he tells him before leaning up to kiss him. Derek melts, the hand on his back going from a light touch to digging, pressing Stiles right against him. Stiles slides his tongue over his bottom lip and turns to press a kiss to his neck. "It's okay, though, because I'm never really serious so I think it could work out."

 "Bed." Derek orders lowly.

 "Gotta let me go first, don't you?"

 Derek takes the challenge, hoisting Stiles' up over his shoulder. Stiles complains the whole way to the bed, and even once he's on it. Derek finally kisses him to shut him up. Then he starts complaining about clothes. "You need to take these off." he mutters, tugging on the bottom of Derek's shirt.

 Derek makes an agreeing sort of sound before sitting back to peal his shirt off. Stiles watches, reaches up to touch the hair curled across his chest. "This is new."

 "I stopped giving a shit about waxing it." Derek mutters absently, undoing his pants.

 Stiles laughs. "You waxed? Oh my god, this explains everything."

 "I will leave you here." Derek warns him.

 Stiles calls his bluff by grinning stupidly at him.

 When Derek finally gets naked, they forget about teasing each other for awhile. At least verbally. Derek has always been exceptionally good about teasing him physically, his hands always dancing across the right spots but only for a moment before searching for a new place. He flicks over his nipples and slides his thumb into the crease of Stiles' thigh, and by the time he gets to touching his cock again Stiles is actually leaking.

 Derek hums when he looks at it. "Nothing looks different here." he notes.

 "Don't be an asshole." Stiles grits through his teeth. "It's not attractive."

 "I don't even need to be a werewolf to know that you lied just now."

 Stiles glares at him, at the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth, and then reaches out and grabs his cock to see how much he likes it. The answer is a lot, apparently, because Derek arches into him, mouth dropping on a quiet moan. Stiles grins to himself. "Now that's more like it."

 "Don't—don't stop." Derek says, bracing both hands above Stiles' shoulders and bucking into his grip.

 "Don't stop what?" Stiles asks innocently, tightening his grip just enough so Derek can't fuck himself anymore.

 "Anything."

 Stiles relaxes again, and Derek uses him. He wasn't like this last time, but now Stiles wishes he had been. Just like how Stiles is now more comfortable with sex, Derek seems to be more comfortable being sexual. Before, he'd been silent and stoic and hardly said four words the whole time. He'd still come and seemed to enjoy it and Stiles had enjoyed it, but now he arches his back and asks for what he wants and says things like I need more, and please, and love your fucking hands.

 And the way he's moving right now reminds Stiles of the way some of his other partners have moved. The arching, the pleading, the way he ever-so-casually straddles Stiles' waist. So he takes a leap of faith and grabs Derek by the hair to pull him down so he can whisper in his ear "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

 Derek makes a sound that Stiles can only describe as a whimper and nods.

 "You wanna ride me? Wanna feel my cock fill you up? I bet you don't even need me to touch you. I bet you could come like that, if you like it as much as you want it."

 "Stiles." he pleads.

 "Yeah." Stiles agrees, letting him go. "Okay, yeah, just—we need lube. And a condom."

 "No condom." Derek says, watching his face. "It sounds like an excuse but I can actually feel a difference."

 "Werewolf senses." Stiles guesses, sighing.

 "But I also have werewolf healing which means no STDs." Derek points out. "So if you're okay with it..."

 "This sounds like the lamest excuse ever but I am falling for it so hard. Next thing you'll be telling me is you don't need prep and we can get straight to the dick stuff."

 "I won't be telling you that, because I do, and also dick stuff?"

 "You want to hit this, you can't lie to me."

 Derek rolls his eyes reaches under the bed. He comes up with lube and squeezes and warms some on his fingers like a pro. Stiles just lays back and stares with an open mouth while Derek straddles him and works two fingers into his ass. His eyes close with a sigh, his hips already rocking back into his hand. "God, you look fucking good." Stiles breathes.

 Derek smirks a little without opening his eyes. "Well, I feel fucking good so that makes sense."

 "You look better when you don't talk."

 "Lie."

 "Yeah." Stiles agrees easily, raising his hands cautiously. "Can I just—" he starts, but he doesn't finish before touching Derek's hips. Derek hums appreciatively, so he tightens his grip to feel the muscles move. Derek shudders, nodding his head in encouragement. "Has it been awhile since you got to bottom? I bet everyone always expects you to be top and you aren't the kind of person who would correct them."

 "Yeah, it's—it's been awhile." Derek agrees.

 "Guess you've been stuck with your own fingers, then."

 "Well," he pants, grinning. "I've got a toy, but otherwise yeah."

 Stiles groans, digging his fingers in so he can hear Derek whimper again. "I want to see that." he admits. "Want to see you fucking yourself with it."

 "Fuck, Stiles..."

 "We can do that sometimes, too." Stiles agrees. "But I'm thinking now that you deserve to have someone else take care of you for once, yeah? Here, just...turn around."

 Derek awkwardly shuffles around so his knees are bracketing Stiles' head. He hums, dipping down to suck the head of Stiles' dick into his mouth. Stiles groans through his teeth and then slips a finger into his hole. Derek's moans, bobbing down further. They settle into a rhythm, Derek following his lead. The further Stiles finger goes, the more he takes in. Every time Stiles teases around the rim, Derek's tongue flicks against his slit and under the head until Stiles can't take it anymore.

 He pushes a second finger inside, bracing himself for whatever Derek might retaliate with. But instead, Derek's head snaps up with a small groan. Stiles pouts at the loss of warmth. "Why'd you stop?"

 "Stiles, it's been years since someone else did this to me." Derek pants, the muscles in his back visibly shaking. "It's like tying a piece of yarn around my wolf and expecting it to hold. You do not want any part of you in my mouth right now."

 Stiles knows he's right, but he still stretches his fingers a little to hear Derek hiss. Only that doesn't seem to discourage either of them, so he suddenly finds himself shifting them around so he can press up against Derek's back while he fingers him. Derek rolls his body into each touch, breathing quiet noises of pleasure whenever Stiles touches the right spot.

 Stiles knows he could probably spend an hour looking at this, finding different ways to turn Derek into a shuddering mess, but he's not patient enough, so he works Derek through three fingers and then slides up to mumble in his ear "Are you—can I?"

 Derek turns his head to look at him. "How do you feel about reverse cowgirl?"

 "I feel like it should be cowboy in this circumstance."

 "Lay down." Derek snorts, and Stiles listens. Derek sits up and positions himself, feeling for his hole and then Stiles' cock. When he's satisfied, he sinks down. It's fairly slow going but Stiles is so happy Derek chose this position because he can watch himself sink inside him and rake his nails down Derek's back at the same time. Derek rumbles when he hits the base of his spine, his whole body shivering and settling firmly on Stiles' lap.

 "God," Stiles breathes, reaching up to grab at his hair. "Derek, you look..."

 Derek moans, his back arching when Stiles ever-so-slightly pulls. "Oh, fuck, Stiles." he breathes.

 Stiles shifts his hips a little, encouraging him to move. It feels like a goddamn lightning bolt hits him right in the chest. Derek starts rocking, slowly at first and then faster until he's well and truly fucking himself on Stiles cock. And Stiles, for his part, feels completely okay with being used this way. He grabs at his hips sometimes to put more force behind a thrust or scratches at his back or grabs his hair but for the most part he feels like he's just watching, and he's surprised by how hot that is. That Derek isn't even really worried about him, that he gets to see Derek this vulnerable and powerful all at once.

 "Stiles, I need—I need you to just—" he starts pleading, fists tight in the sheets.

 "Tell me." Stiles orders. When Derek doesn't respond he sits up and reaches around to tweak a nipple. Derek moans. "That what you wanted?"

"Rougher." Derek growls, still fucking himself. "Harder. I just—just a little more."

 Stiles twists his nipple again with one hand and pulls his head to the side with the other. Derek's letting out one long, angry groan through his teeth, his face red with how hard he's squeezing his eyes shut and arms shaking with the effort of grabbing at the bedding. Stiles forces his hips up as much as he can and sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Derek slams back into him and yells so loud Stiles might worry he's hurt him if he wasn't clearly coming. Stiles moans and hauls him against him, like there's an ounce of space between them anyway, and shudders through his own orgasm.

 It's only when Derek starts hissing that he remembers. "Shit. Shit, Derek, I'm so—"

 "It's okay, I—I wanted you to. I knew you would." Derek breathes, shaking his head. "It feels good, it's just a lot."

 "You totally knew what it was when I told you."

 "I had an idea."

 "And you like it, huh?" Stiles teases, nipping on the fading mark on his shoulder.

 "Yeah."

 "So, you'll explain this later, yeah?"

 "Yeah," Derek agrees on a breath, nodding as he leans back into Stiles arms. "Later."

Chapter Text

"So how much later were you thinking?"

 Derek sighs. "This really isn't the time, Stiles."

 "I don't know, I think I'd like to know about my freaky dick before I die."

 Derek glares at him, but he doesn't argue about the dying thing, and that makes Stiles a lot more nervous than he wants to be. Derek must sense that, because he sighs again. "The pack is coming for us, Stiles, you know that."

 "Yeah, well, until then, let's chat. About my penis."

 Derek would probably try to run away, like he has been for the past week whenever Stiles bring it up, but the wolfsbane rope around his ankles and arms and hands pretty well nixes that option. He might even try to change the conversation, too, but there's nothing else to talk about and if he doesn't speak Stiles will turn this into a fight. He's got a week of annoyance built up. He can go for days.

 Derek, apparently realizing these realities, sighs and slumps back against the cement wall. Stiles makes himself as comfortable as he can on the opposite wall with his own rope burn to deal it. "It's a knot."

 "I knew that."

 "It's for mating."

 Stiles narrows his eyes. "Why are you telling me things I know?"

 Derek grits his teeth. "Do you want to learn or not?"

 "You know, this is really difficult for you to talk about considering it's my dick."

 "Because it's not exactly a comfortable situation we're in." Derek snaps.

 "You have no right to be upset with me, Derek Hale." Stiles retorts. "You're the one that ran after them!"

 "You're the one who followed me."

 "You needed backup."

 "Clearly."

 Stiles narrows his eyes. "That's not funny."

 "I'm not laughing." Derek agrees.

 They stare at each other in stony silence for awhile before Stiles sighs and leans his head back into the concrete. "I'm sorry I chased you and got tied up." he drawls.

 Derek huffs. "My mother told me an apology only counts if you promise not to do it again."

 Stiles sits up and glares. "I'm trying to be nice, asshole."

 "That's not a promise." he points out.

 "Yeah, well, you're avoiding the subject."

 They both freeze at the sound of the door creaking open. A previously unmet enemy flounces into the basement. She's a pretty blonde with a sweet smile. Stiles is almost convinced she's someone Scott's sent to help until she sings "Harvest time!"

 She goes for Stiles first, who wriggles himself a few feet away before Derek snarls, the sound echoing through the room. They both freeze and look at him.

 "If you keep that up, I won't let you watch." the girl chastises. Derek face contorts, trying to shift but unable to because he's too weak. She clicks her tongue and turns back to Stiles. "Is he always so combative."

 "He gets real nice when he's not tied up." Stiles suggests.

 She laughs, a bright, honest laughter that's making Stiles sick. "See, now why can't you be more like him?" she asks Derek.

 "What are you?" Stiles breathes in horror. He's faced a lot of demented shit, but never something so confusing. Never something that hadn't been at least a little monstrous looking.

 "I'm the harvester." she repeats. When Stiles doesn't seem to catch on, she smacks herself in the forehead. "Oh, silly me. You meant what kind of creature am I. We're ghouls."

 "Last ghoul we saw wasn't as whole as you." Derek snaps.

 For the first time her expression goes dark, and Stiles really wishes she'd stayed bright and sunny. "Last ghoul you saw was my brother." she says, turning slowly to look at him. "You know all about having your family murdered, don't you?"

 Derek bares his teeth.

 "It's like a piece of you goes missing, isn't it? Not a limb, persay, though that's annoying." she looks at Stiles and winks. Stiles' heart drops. "No, more like something inside you. Like one lung stops working and suddenly the other is forced to do double duty. Suddenly everything is harder. Waking up, eating, living."

 "So this is revenge?" Derek surmises.

 "Yep!" she chirps, looking back at Stiles. "Okay, do you have a preference of where you'd like me to start?"

 Stiles panics when she comes close and winds his body up, kicking his legs out and landing right against her knees. He hears one of them crack, and she goes down. But she doesn't make any sounds of pain, just sighs and flips her blonde hair back. "You know, I was going to be nice." she growls, standing. Her knee is clearly broken, sticking out at all the wrong angles. But she still walks forward, limping but not showing any weakness.

 "I killed him." Derek snaps. "I killed your damn brother. Took his head clean off with my teeth. And you can bet your ass I'd do it again. Wouldn't even hesitate. He was easy to kill, anyway. Weak and pathetic and stupid."

 She turns so fast her knee snaps back into place. Stiles turns and gags. "You wanna go first? Fine, see if I care." Stiles yelps when a hand closes around his hair, dragging him forward. He's not proud of the screaming, but it fucking hurts. Then she drops him right next to Derek. "Keep your eyes open, kiddo, and I'll make this fast."

 "Stiles, don't—" Derek starts, and then her hand dives straight in his chest. Stiles screams, shouts, struggles like he's never struggled before. Derek's eyes gloss over quickly, his breathing labored and blood spurting from his mouth.

 "We usually take more time with werewolves." she sighs. "Cut you apart and let you heal again. You guys can feed us for months if we do it right."

 "Stop!" Stiles yelps. "Stop it!"

 She twists her wrist, flesh tearing and blood gushing out even faster. "And as much as I'd love to do that to you, I made a promise to your boyfriend to make it quick if he watched." She turns and meets Stiles' eyes, grinning with sharpening teeth. "I always keep a promise."

 Stiles is about to find some choice words for her—he swears he is—when suddenly something bursts from the center of her forehead and her face turns to pure shock. It surprises Stiles, too, enough that it takes him a moment to notice that the thing sticking out of her is an arrow.

 She drops to the ground, releasing her hold on Derek's heart. Derek gasps, his healing kick-starting. Stiles struggles against his ropes until Allison drops down next to him and cuts him lose. Then he's on Derek, pressing his hands against the hole to help keep whatever blood he can in. "It's okay, she's dead." Stiles breathes. "We made it, we're okay, right?"

 Derek coughs more blood, wet and warm and all over Stiles' hands, but he manages to nod.

 "Stiles, hey." Scott cuts in and pushes his hands over Stiles'. "Let me help."

 Stiles watches the lines of black draw up his arms, breathes a small sigh of relief. Derek sighs, too, breathing easier every second. He takes his hands away to give Scott more room and sits back heavily.  "We're okay."

***

 "Do you remember the pixie we helped last month?"

 Stiles blinks back from the brink of sleep and frowns. "Uh, yeah?"

 "She gave us each a wish."

 Stiles scowls then. "Yeah, she was real damn hilarious by sending me that toy car."

 Derek snorts, shaking his head. "It was stupid for you to use them."

 "She took yours away, didn't she?" Stiles mumbles, resting his cheek against Derek's shoulder. "Said something cryptic about it."

 "I wasn't going to use it. You can't trust a pixie."

 "Mm."

 "But she said she'd give me my wish anyway." Derek continues cautiously.

 "Yeah? What'd she fuck up for you?"

 "Nothing." Derek brushes his fingers across his cheek, making his open his eyes again. "She's the one who gave you the knot, though. Thought it would be a funny way to bring us together, I guess."

 Stiles pauses, then frowns. "Wait, was your wish me?"

 "Of course it was." Derek huffs. "What else would I wish for?"

 Stiles can think of a lot of things, eleven names specifically, but he doesn't say anything about them. "You didn't have to magic my dick for that."

 "I didn't."

 "So...is this permanent?"

 "I don't think so. It started on the full moon, so it'll probably end on the new moon."

 "Oh. Well..." Stiles rolls over on top of him. "Guess we could make the best of it. You know. While it lasts."

 Derek grins. "You guess?"

 "I mean, last time was pretty good." Stiles shrugs. "So if you're interested."

 "You're an idiot."

 Stiles smiles and leans down to kiss him.