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You Left Your Window Open and I Crawled Inside

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“Dude, you're never gonna make first line if you can't even take the shot. Just shoot it." Stiles yelled from his place inside his self-fashioned goal. Scott gave him a pointed glare as he ran back towards the opposite fence.

“Then quit doing that!” He yelled from across the yard, getting ready to try again.

“Doing what?” Stiles called back, tramping down his slight irritation at being kept waiting.

“Quit beating the shit out of me with your stick every time I get close!”

“It’s lacrosse Scott!” Stiles yelled back in disbelief. “It’s a violent game! This is all about preparation!”

“Well I wish you’d ease up a bit or I might not be able to play at all!”

“Don’t be such a baby!” Stiles demanded, smacking his stick against the goal. “Now come on! Show me what you got!”

Scott looked hesitant, but he ran to the goal once more, legs picking up speed. His Crosse was pulled back, ball in the mesh getting even closer. Stiles watched as Scott’s arms swung forward and...

The ball went over the fence.

“Are you kidding me!” Stiles cried, arms flailing in a rapidly alarming motion. “You’re supposed to aim for the net Scott!”

“I did.” Scott claimed, looking slightly embarrassed and Stiles groaned.

“I’m really trying to help you here, buddy. Trying being the key word.” Stiles sighed and Scott became indignant.

“Like you’re such a good player. You’re not even on the field!”

“Hey, I’m a good shot!” Stiles argued, and it wasn’t a lie. He had great aim. Not a lot of grace...but great aim nonetheless.

“Then why aren't you going for first line?” Scott demanded and Stiles shrugged.

“Stage fright.”

“What?” His friend asked in confusion.

“Stage fright.” Stiles repeated. “I’m good in practice, but put me in front of a crowd during the real deal and it’s not pretty. You've seen before.” Stiles acknowledged, sounding strangely at peace with the reality of his situation.

“We’re so screwed now.” Stiles muttered, eying the top of his fence in distress. Scott frowned at him.

“Why don’t you just bring out another ball?”

“Because, genius. I don’t exactly have the money to go and buy lacrosse gear. I had to steal that one from coach.” He bit out, motioning to the property divider in front of him.

“Oh.” Scott sighed, eyes downcast as he thought up a new plan. “We could just knock on your neighbor’s door and politely ask for it back?”

Stiles gaped at Scott as if he’d grown another head.

“Go over there and ask-”

“Yeah, man. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal!” Stiles’ teeth sunk into his clenched fist before he forced himself to unlock his jaw. “Do you even know who lives over there?”

“The same people you’ve lived next to your entire life?” Scott deadpanned, more then just slightly lost. “The Hales-”

“Not just the Hales, Scott. Derek Hale. I saw his car in the driveway when we pulled up, and if he’s there, you can kiss that ball goodbye.”

“But why?”

“Because he gets a special kind of pleasure out of torturing me.”

“That’s...weird.” Scott muttered, his brows drawn down in a frown.

“He’s a weird kind of guy.” Stiles answered, removing his gloves since they could no longer play. Scott squared his shoulders and shook his head.

“No. You and I are going over there, and we’re getting that ball back.” He declared and Stiles laughed with unbridled mirth.

“I admire your determination, and your courage; stupid though it may be, but I’m gonna have to pass. I am so not pulling a Sandlot today.”

“Sandlot?” Scott asked in puzzlement and Stiles gaped at him.

“How have you still not seen that movie?”

Scott shrugged and Stiles sighed in disappointment. “You’re killing me Smalls.” He muttered heading towards the back door.

“Come on, Stiles!” Scott begged, making the other teen stop. “Let’s just go over there. It can’t hurt to try, and you promised you would help me practice.”

If there was one thing Stiles couldn’t resist it was Scott’s pouting lip combined with his too-big pleading eyes that he used to his advantage like crazy.

“Fine.” Stiles gave in, and Scott’s face instantly lit up. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Stiles added, pointing his finger sharply, to which Scott gave a solemn nod.

“Alright.” Stiles grumbled, heading to the back gate with Scott in tow. “Let’s get the humiliation over with.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Stiles snorted. “Dude, I’ve grown up living next to Derek Hale, and trust me when I say it’s worse than that bad.”

“Why does he hate you guys so much?” Scott asked as they made their way down the driveway, going left when they hit the sidewalk.

“Oh he doesn’t hate us.” Stiles corrected. “Just me. He’s super respectful to my dad. But I guess it’s not like you can openly hate the sheriff.”

“Yeah, I guess. So...what did you do to make him hate you so much?”

Stiles gaped at his so-called best friend. “I resent that you know! I didn’t do anything, okay? I’m awesome. I am not the problem. Ever think maybe he is the problem?”

Scott eyed him, completely unconvinced and Stiles’ mouth dropped feeling utterly insulted. They were walking up the quaint path to the Hale house when Scott shrugged.

“I’ve run into Derek a lot. He seemed normal. He was cool with me, must’ve done something to piss him off.”

Stiles looked just a bit guilty.

“Okay, so I might’ve done something...”

Scott lifted a brow inquisitively and Stiles made them pause on their journey to failure.

“ remember about four years ago when Derek played basketball in high school?”

Scott nodded.

“Well, he had a really important game one night...and I was just trying to be supportive, so I went out and bought one of those cheap marker things that you can use to write stuff on the windows of cars. You know, to be encouraging?”

“Aw.” Scott cooed, actually thinking it was sweet.

“Only it didn’t wash off.”

Scott’s face fell. “It didn’t wash off?”

Stiles shook his head.

“He had the Camaro then, didn’t he?”

Stiles nodded.

“You stained his Camaro?”

Stiles nodded again, and Scott was starting to look like he was siding with Derek.

“It came off eventually!” Stiles defended. “And my dad paid for any damage, and I mean come on! It was four years ago! You’d think he’d be over it by now. He doesn’t even have the Camaro anymore.”

“Miss that car.” Scott murmured, and Stiles took a moment to nod his head in silent affirmation.

“What’d you write on it, anyway?”

Stiles visibly winced. “Derek Hale you’re so fine, you can shoot balls anytime.”

Scott’s eyes went wide and he doubled over with a snort of choked laughter while Stiles tapped his foot and looked around awkwardly.

“I was thirteen!” he glared, but it didn’t matter because Scott couldn’t even look at him, as he could barely hold himself upright at the moment. “I just wanted it to rhyme.”

“Oh god, no wonder he hates you.” Scott laughed, finally righting himself to wipe at the tears leaking from his eyes.

“Shut up.” Stiles grumbled, dragging Scott to the door. “I apologized like fifty times, and I got the door slammed in my face each and every time. He locked his car in the garage for the next year after that.”

“Oh stop.” Scott begged, clutching at his stomach. “You’re gonna make me lose it again.”

“Just ring the doorbell, asshole.” Stiles growled, shoving Scott forward. He took a second to gather himself and then pushed his index finger into the lit up button. They heard the sound of a muffled chime coming from inside the house and shuffled while they waited.

The door flew open, and just like Stiles had predicted, Derek was the one who answered, already glowering.

“Can I help you?” He asked, voice firm in its absolute lack of emotion and humanity.

Scott put on a warm smile, pulling out the big guns as he spoke in an open and polite voice.

“Hey, Derek. We were practicing in Stiles’ backyard when our ball went over your fence, and we were hoping we could get it back.”

Derek’s eyes cut over to Stiles; who gave an awkward wave, hand falling when Derek glared harder.

The door was slammed in their faces. Scott let out a surprised gasp and Stiles shrugged giving him a look that said ‘I told you so.’

“Rude.” Scott muttered, taking a step back just as the door was pulled open again.

“I didn’t see any ball." Derek growled, moving to dismiss them for the second time.

Stiles rushed forward, hand hitting the strong wood of the door to stop it from clicking shut.

“Are you sure you didn’t see it? You were only gone for like five seconds.”

Derek glared holes into Stiles’ obstructing arm before traveling up to his face, green eyes meeting honey-brown and Stiles was lost in the ferocity of that intense stare.

“My vision is perfect, and I. Didn’t. See it.”

The door was once again slammed shut, making Stiles jump back and remove his hand with a wince.

Scott and Stiles both stared at it in shock before they turned to each other.

“Are you sure all you did was ruin his car?” Scott asked slightly breathless. He wasn’t much for confrontations. Stiles shrugged and they made their way back down the path.

“To think, our families used to have barbeques every summer. Derek was the one who taught me how to swim when I was five and got tired of wearing those stupid water-wing things.”

Stiles sighed in nostalgia. “He used to be such a sweet kid.”

“Yeah, until you fucked up his car.”

“It was four years ago! Stiles seethed, tugging at the strands of his hair.

“You leave an impression.” Scott laughed and Stiles shot him another glare, turning back to look at the Hale house.

He wasn’t sure, but it looked like one of the curtains fell closed, swaying briefly before remaining still.


Scott went home not long after that. They couldn’t practice anymore and Harris had given them a shit-ton of homework to do just to torture them. Finstock had also assigned an essay to write in Econ, and when the class complained in unison he had come back with, “If you can’t stand the heat, don’t set yourself on fire.”

Whatever the hell that meant.

Stiles ran to his kitchen, deciding to ignore a glass and instead went straight for the whole carton of milk. He grabbed a package of cookies at the last minute as well before heading up to his room to work on his homework.

He tossed the cookies on his bed, untwisting the plastic cap on the milk before raising it to his lips to take a drink. Stiles moved towards his desk, walking by his window and absently looking out as he took a swig.

He almost choked to death.

Stiles only had one complaint when it came to his room, and that was that it faced Derek’s. His window overlooked Derek’s window, and the guy was a great lover of the outside because he never fucking closed his curtains!

Well almost never. But it was a near thing.

Stiles was busy hacking up milk as he looked out across the very short way, eyes glued to Derek as he walked into view, tossing a ball in the air before catching it deftly.

Tossing Stiles ball in the air.

“Son of a bitch!” Stiles wheezed, clutching at his chest as he collapsed dramatically to the ground, careful not to spill the remainder of his milk.

Stiles wiped at his leaking eyes, finally getting his breathing under some sort of control. His hands gripped the window’s ledge and he pulled himself up on shaky legs, glaring at what he could see of Derek’s room, but Derek himself was no longer in sight.

“Damn it.” He hissed, walking to the desk which held his laptop. Derek couldn’t keep getting away with doing shit like this. It was time for Stiles to do something about that guy’s sour attitude. He was about to make a counterattack and get his stupid ball back.

Well, coach’s ball back.

And he knew just who to call. Someone who would help him without question...


“I’m not helping you.” Danny declared, refusing to budge no matter how many times Stiles begged.

“Oh come on!” Stiles hounded, reduced to going to his knees. “Remember that time I introduced you to Trevor?”

“Trevor was an asshole.” Danny fumed, and Stiles switched tactics.

“But he was a hot asshole, right?”

Danny shrugged.

“Please, Danny! Just do this for me?”

“No! You’re the sheriff’s son, and this is so illegal! It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“It’s just one little hack job!”

“Why should I?” Danny demanded, and Stiles’ grin turned slightly manic.

“Remember that time I helped you get back at Trevor? When we may or may not have slipped him something so he tripped balls for a few hours? We wouldn’t want anyone to find out about that, would we?”

Danny seethed. “That was a one time thing! You and I were drunk when we did that, and that wasn’t our finest hour.”

“Yeah, tell it to the judge, it was still hilarious.” Stiles muttered, remembering Trevor freaking out at the sight of his mother’s plants.

“This feels like entrapment, and extortion, and blackmail all at once.” Danny glowered and Stiles beamed.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“You’re a terrible person and a felon, and I should tell your father.”

Stiles beamed, making room for Danny to access his laptop.

“Whatever you need to say to get you through this, buddy.”

Danny glared but proceeded to work his magic.

“ exactly does this work?” Stiles asked in curiosity, and Danny sighed.

“Different ways. Sometimes I need the computer’s specific information in order to hack it. Other times I can do it if it’s in close enough range, or through their Wi-Fi.”

“Creepy.” Stiles whispered and Danny nodded in agreement.

“So, why do you want me to do this again?”

“I need to get proof.” Stiles answered absently.

“Is this like...for one of your dad’s cases? Cause you know whatever you find can’t be used in court without a warrant.”

“I know that.” Stiles frowned, giving Danny a pointed look. “And no, this isn’t for my dad. It’s for me.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“No. Now get hacking.”


Danny sighed, announcing that he was finally finished.

“Did you get it?” Stiles asked excited, shooting up from his reclined position on his bed and stumbling to the other teen’s side. “Am I in?”

“You’re in.” Danny assured wearily. “You now have control of Derek Hale’s webcam.” And Danny sounded like he already deeply regretted that fact.

Stiles clapped him on the shoulder before rubbing his palms together in delight.

“This better not come back to me. Are we clear?” Danny demanded, standing up to gather his things quickly.

“You have my word.” Stiles swore, but that didn’t seem to comfort Danny one bit.

“I’ll show myself out.” He said, shaking his head all the way to the door.

Stiles went straight for his laptop, showing no signs of restraint. He clicked on the new icon labeled ‘DH Cam’ and waited for the video feed to come through.

One way or another he was gonna get a shot of Derek with his ball. Or of Derek doing something really embarrassing that Stiles could use as blackmail material to get his ball back. Either way he wasn’t picky. And if in the process he saw something that he could hold over Derek to use against him for the rest of their lives...bonus.

Stiles held his breath when the image came through. He’d only been in Derek’s room a handful of times before and that was when they were kids. He only ever saw a little piece of it through the window now.

Derek's computer must’ve been situated in a corner, angled towards the bed and door. The bed itself was neatly covered with a deep black bedspread and the walls were a dark grey color. The whole room looked like a rain cloud, but at least it wasn’t a messy rain cloud. There wasn’t a single article of clothing out of place.

Stiles could appreciate that. He wasn’t one for messiness either.

There were books piled high on the nightstand, but there were hardly any personal touches. I few knick knacks here and there, but nothing that really said that it was someone’s room.

Stiles looked around at his own clutter. All the things he’d collected over the years. The posters on his wall, the trophies in his cabinet. Now he was a normal person. Derek was not. Or maybe it was something you grew out of when you hit your twenties. The need to no longer associate with anything. Or have any sort of preference or identity-

Stiles straightened when Derek walked in on the screen. He was no longer carrying the ball. In fact...Stiles couldn’t see the ball anywhere.

Damn it, this was probably going to take longer than he’d expected. And he had all that homework to do...

Stiles watched as Derek collapsed on his bed, a sigh barely registering through the laptop’s microphone. Derek’s feet were bare, toes slightly wiggling and Stiles was fascinated by them, watching riveted as Derek’s hand shifted, palm flat on his abdomen as he absently rubbed. His bright green eyes were glued to the ceiling, and Stiles’ face was an inch away from the screen, just wishing Derek would do something that he could use when-

He picked up a book, and started reading.

Stiles let out a disappointed sigh, going over to his backpack to get started on his homework. This could take awhile.


Derek had been reading for two and a half hours now, but at least Stiles had a decent first draft done on his essay for Finstock’s class. Every now and then Derek would shift or change positions on his bed before getting comfortable again, and each time Stiles’ eyes would cut to the screen in excitement before going back to his Chemistry textbook.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his dad come up the stairs until he was knocking on the door. Stiles quickly minimized the window showing Derek’s room just as his father came in.

The sheriff of Beacon Hills lifted a brow at his son, and Stiles gave a guilty shrug.

“Porn.” He said by way of explanation, and his dad rose the other brow.

“What?” Stiles demanded. “It’s normal!”

“Yeah, but every other time I’ve caught you watching it you usually try to lie through your teeth.”

“Aren’t you always saying that honesty is the best policy?”

“So you’re doing homework while watching porn?”

“If I don’t multitask I’ll never get anything done.” Stiles answered, sounding weary.

“Uh-huh. You gonna want anything for dinner. Besides cookies?” He asked, eyeing the half-eaten package.

“I could eat.” Stiles answered absently, itching to see if Derek was doing something different.

“Pasta okay?”

“Do you know how many carbs that is?” Stiles asked offended and his dad raised both expressive brows his way.

“Are you watching your girlish figure?”

“No.” Stiles protested indignantly. “I’m watching your calorie intake, and your cholesterol, and your blood sugar, and your-”

“Okay, I get it. How about chicken then?”

“As long as it’s not fried.” Stiles said, turning back to his textbook.

He could hear his dad muttering as he closed the door behind him.

“You’re taking the joy out of eating, kid.”

Once the door closed all the way, Stiles was back to his computer, reopening the window to Derek’s webcam.

The guy was still reading.

“That better be one good book.” Stiles gritted, going back to grinding pencil lead into his paper as he tried to focus.

There was movement on the screen, and Stiles practically shoved his Chem homework out of the way to get closer.

Derek had set his book down and Stiles watched in awe as he stretched languidly, shirt riding up to reveal an impressively muscled stomach.

“Jesus Christ, did someone shape your abs with a chisel?”

Stiles thought he was seeing things, but onscreen it looked like Derek actually smirked ever-so-slightly. He’d never seen him look like that before. Soft and comfortable and...human.

Derek stood fluidly, hands going to the hem of his shirt before pulling it up over his head, tossing it into the hamper.

“Whoa. Okay...oh my god.” Stiles breathed, faced with Derek Hale’s naked torso. “That shouldn’t be legal.”

Derek dropped to the ground, doing all sorts of difficult looking push-ups, and really? Really?

His muscles were rippling, his body was completely under his control. Strong and fit, and seeing the way he worked it was doing strange things to Stiles’ breathing.

Derek regained his feet and proceeded to work his arms by doing pull-ups on the bar over his closet door.

“And you have a tattoo.” Stiles muttered, hand rubbing at his forehead. “Of course you have a tattoo.”

Stiles had a bit of a thing for tattoos. Not that he could ever get one himself. Needles being a slight cause of fear and all, but he still admired them.

Derek was starting to sweat and it was making his skin glisten each time he pulled himself up.

Stiles licked his lips, mouth feeling suddenly parched. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, and when did it suddenly get so warm in here?

Derek’s jeans were riding dangerously low on his hips and he watched their lowered progress with intensity. His own pants were getting a little uncomfortable.

He gaped down at his lap, mouth falling open in a silent exclamation.

“Oh come on! Are you serious?” Stiles yelled at his dick. “You’re standing to attention for Derek Hale?!”

On-screen Derek looked like he almost fell off of his pull-up bar.

Stiles muttered unflattering comments like ‘jerkwad’ and ‘ball-stealer’ as Derek continued to work on his amazing physique. But it wasn’t Stiles’ fault. His cock was just superficial and therefore could not be blamed for who it found arousal-worthy.

Even if that person was Derek-fucking-Hale.

Stiles continued to watch, and his dick continued to be hard as Derek went through a range of different exercises; all of which looked strenuous, but Derek didn’t seem to be phased by them in any way. Eventually he stopped, taking a breath and wiping his brow with the shirt he’d discarded earlier. He tossed the shirt back in the hamper and left his room to presumably shower.

Stiles sighed, silently begging the flagpole between his legs to go down.

“He’s gone.” He whispered, as if it would help. “You can stop being so excited...”

His dick stayed stubbornly hard, and his dad chose that moment to call him down to dinner.

“This is so not worth the agony.” He groaned, closing out the window before heading to the bathroom to work on his calming techniques and breathing exercises.

Or to just masturbate. Yeah, that sounded like a better idea.

The second Stiles touched himself, he didn’t even bother trying to think of anyone other than Derek, and his hand flew over his hot, rigid flesh at such a speed that he ripped a startled cry out of his own throat, imagining Derek’s pretty green eyes boring down into his. His full lips pressing against his own. All those muscles rippling above him.

He came embarrassingly fast and he couldn’t ever remember having an orgasm that intense. And he touched himself a lot, so that was saying something. His toes were curling and his body was still shuddering while he tried to take in lungfuls of air. he might have a thing for Derek Hale.

But it was only a little thing, as unhealthy as that was. He could handle it. It wouldn’t change the fact that Derek was still a pompous ass who would rather hold a four year grudge then be a decent human being!

He wasn’t bitter.

“Stiles!” His dad called again from downstairs, and Stiles quickly got rid of the evidence and washed his hands thoroughly before heading back out.


Stiles didn’t head back up to his room until well after eleven o’clock, having spent some much needed family-time with his father since he wouldn’t be given another chance in who knew how long.

Fuck, he still had Chemistry homework to do. And he still had nothing on Derek. Unless he wanted to try blackmailing him with his exercise routine, as if that wouldn’t get another door slammed in his face, as well as a restraining order.

He sighed and dragged his feet back to his half-finished homework. He would ignore the webcam and focus.

He was going to focus, damn it!

He was- yeah, he was so clicking on the icon again. Stiles waited with bated breath as the video buffered, opening to once more reveal Derek’s room. Derek himself was standing in the middle, putting things away and looking like he was getting ready for bed.

Stiles wished he could go to bed. Instead, he was stuck at his desk, supposed to be working on Chem, and instead he was too busy peeping in on his neighbor who hated his guts.

God he sounded like such a loser. And a creep. Very much a creeper now that he thought about it.

And was he really doing all this over a ball and the fact that Derek had been nothing but nasty to him for the past couple of years? Was that what this was really all about?

Stiles shrugged. Too late to turn back now, and whoa, Derek was pulling his shirt off again.

"Is this like a thing with you?" He muttered, watching as on-screen Derek turned his back to him, showing off that cool tattoo again, muscles shifting as he shimmied out of his jeans and-

Derek was getting naked.

Derek was naked!

Oh. My. God. That ass.

Stiles swallowed, because okay...apparently Derek Hale slept naked.

“Of course you sleep naked.” Stiles wheezed, hand flying to his throat. “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you, I mean...look at you!” He was babbling to a computer screen. Stiles covered his eyes with his sweaty palm, but then his fingers were spreading traitorously, allowing him to peek through.

Derek had crawled under his comforter in a way that hadn’t allowed Stiles to peruse the other anatomy between his legs. His very strong, muscled legs...

But it wasn’t like he wanted to see.

He wasn’t that depraved...

He wasn’t.

“Things are really bad when you can’t even be honest with yourself.” Stiles groaned, watching as Derek’s eyes momentarily looked into the webcam, as if he were looking directly at him.

“Whoa.” Stiles whispered, getting closer, but Derek had only looked for a second...

It must’ve been a camera malfunction, cause his eyes had looked like an animal’s when they caught on the light. Iridescent and glowing. Stiles wrote it off as not important.

Derek settled after getting comfortable and grabbed the book he’d been reading earlier.

Sighing, Stiles forced himself to turn his attention back to his homework.

For real this time.


Stiles wasn't obsessed. He was not.

So what if he stopped doing his homework for half an hour just to watch Derek Hale breathe evenly in sleep. So what if he tracked the twitching of his eyes signaling the older man's descent into REM sleep. So what if he listened to the way Derek made these small cut-off noises in the back of his throat as he shifted, fingers clenching and unclenching spasmodically.

So what?

It didn't mean anything, because Stiles was not obsessed. He could now admit that he had a thing for Derek Hale. But it was just a stupid immature teenage thing that would go away. Of this he was certain. So it didn't matter if Stiles listened to him breathe, and it didn't matter if Stiles tensed whenever Derek's eyes fluttered behind his lids, looking as if he were on the verge of waking, and it didn't matter if his finger came up to trace the shape of Derek's body on the screen.

Because he was not obsessed.

Stiles sighed, not even bothering to try and believe the lies his own mind was spewing.

"You know," He said absently to video-Derek, chin dropping to his crossed arms, "you're kind of peaceful when you sleep."

Derek's lashes twitched against his cheeks as he breathed in deeply.

"And kind of beautiful too."


“Here man.” Scott said the next day, handing him a brand new lacrosse ball.

“Aw.” Stiles said, taking it from him, genuinely touched. “You went out and bought me a new one?”

“No, I stole that one from coach.” Scott admitted, looking ridiculously pleased with himself and Stiles couldn’t help but flash him a grin.

“My influence has steadily been rubbing off on you over the years.”

Scott nodded as they headed for practice. “I’ve never stolen something before. It was kind of awesome.”

“The force is strong in this one.” Stiles said darkly and Scott stared at him in confusion.

“Seriously. You still haven’t watched Star Wars? Seriously!”

Scott looked slightly sorry for the insult he had no idea he’d inflicted, and Stiles let it go. Some people just couldn’t grasp the awesomeness that was Star Wars.

They headed to the locker room, changing quickly when coach burst out of his office.

“Okay, which one of you goons keeps stealing my balls?” FInstock yelled, and the entire room just stopped.

Stiles snorted in the quiet and Finstock zeroed in on him as he charged over. “Do you know something Bilinski?” He demanded, and Stiles forced a serious expression over his face.

“No coach. I have no idea where your balls are. I don’t know why anyone would even want to steal your balls. Don’t you usually keep your balls under lock and key?” Beside him, Scott’s face was going red as he tried not to release his built-up laughter. There were snickers going all around the locker room.

Finstock gave him the ‘crazy eye’ before his shoulders sagged in slight defeat.

“I always lock my balls up. I’m gonna have a talk with that janitor.” And with that he stormed off.

Stiles waved his hand palm out in front his chest. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.” he quoted and Scott shook his head, releasing his amusement finally.

“Another Star Wars reference?” He asked, and Stiles glared.

“Don’t act like you understand the impressiveness that is a Jedi’s power.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” Scott muttered as they closed their lockers and headed out to the field.


Stiles was next in the line-up, just happy that coach wasn’t making them run suicides for once when Scott tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?” Stiles asked, trying to get revved up before he took the shot.

“Dude, isn’t that Derek Hale over there?”

“Over where?” Stiles demanded frantically trying to look every which way, even though his helmet made it near-impossible.

“Over there. By the tree line.

Stiles saw him then. Hands in his leather jacket pockets, green-eyed stare intense to say the least.

“Let’s go, Bilinski! You’re up!” Finstock yelled, and Stiles’ legs suddenly felt like jelly.

“God damn it.” He muttered, already knowing this wasn't gonna end well.

Stiles forced himself to focus, swiping the ball in his net and steadily pushing forward, picking up speed as his feet found traction in the dirt. Maybe he could actually make this and not look like a complete incompetent...

Stiles swung back his Crosse, preparing to take the shot...

When he was pummeled from the side and knocked to the ground, all the air rushed out of him in a pained gasp.

Jackson looked smug above him.

“Fail, Stilinski. Complete fail.” He laughed before jogging away.

Of course this would happen. Of course.

Scott rushed over to his side, helping him to stand as coach yelled encouragingly, “Take a walk, Bilinski! Just walk it off, that’s it!”

Stiles sent a sharp wave Finstock’s way, signaling that he’d heard him as Scott settled him on the bench.

“Oh sweet hard metal how I’ve missed you.” Stiles groaned, trying not to put any pressure on his newly formed bruise.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked in concern and Stiles wheezed, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Did he see?”

“What?” Scott asked confused.

“Derek, did he see? Is he still there?”

Scott looked off to the side, still looking unsure.

“No, he’s gone.” He answered, and Stiles let out a sigh. “Why do you care if he saw?”

Stiles looked at him as if he were slow. “He hates me, Scott. I don’t need to give him anymore ammunition to make my life miserable.”

“Oh.” Scott said, looking down at his friend with slight pity. “You want some ice for that?”

“I think I need a new hip.” Stiles hissed, trying not to shift too much. “If I sue Jackson and his family for all their worth, will you be my witness?”

“Gladly.” Scott laughed, giving Stiles a delicate pat on the shoulder. “Just so long as I get my cut.”

“You’ll get paid.” Stiles reassured, ushering him back towards the field. “Now go on. Go make first line.”


Stiles hobbled and limped up to his front door, shuffling for his house key awkwardly. He stopped, feeling the intense sensation like eyes were watching him and turned his head to the right, stilling in shock when he met Derek’s gaze across the way.

Derek was watering the plants. In all the seventeen years of Stiles' life and living next to the Hales he’d never seen Derek water the plants. Not once.

Didn’t they pay someone to do that for them?

Stiles nodded awkwardly at him. A gesture which Derek did not return, but he didn’t flip him the bird, either, so Stiles took it as a win. He watched as Derek shut off the water and made a hasty retreat inside.

“I don’t feel like a pariah.” Stiles muttered as he tried to jam the key in the lock. “I don’t feel like a pariah, I do not feel like a pariah-”

Stiles shoved his front door open, moving with difficulty until he was inside and the world was successfully shut out.

“Ice. I need ice. Or would heat be better?” Stiles asked the empty house off-handedly. “I’ll go with ice.”

He settled for wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a towel to be carried upstairs. Stiles stumbled into his room, throwing his backpack in the corner before absently waking his laptop up from sleep mode. He double clicked on the 'DH Cam' icon before he realized what he was doing.

“Oh.” He said softly, watching as the video buffered. Scott got him another ball. He really had no reason to continue to watch Derek like this. Not that he had a real legitimate reason before...

He was such a scumbag. He should delete the icon...make Danny get rid of the evidence...

But then the video was streaming in, and Derek was sprawled out over his bed, and Stiles found that the idea of deleting his ability to be able to see see Derek, was upsetting.

“It’s not like I have to make a choice now...” He argued, mentally shrugging his dilemma away. Hasty decisions could wait.

Stiles walked towards the center of his room, grabbing his frozen bag of peas as he went. As gently as he could, he eased the band of one side of his gym pants down past his hip, revealing a big ugly bruise about the size of a CD. It was already a deep purple, tapering out to yellow edges.

Stiles hissed, slowly pressing the ice against it.

“Fuuuccck.” He hissed out in discomfort, forced to look away in order to distract himself.

Derek Hale was smoldering at him through his window.

“Sweet lord!” Stiles yelled, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor on his back. Stiles struggled to regain his footing, pants still hanging low off of one hip as he finally stood up.

Derek wasn’t there anymore, and when Stiles’ eyes cut to his laptop he wasn’t in his room either.

His heart was beating unbearably fast and his stomach felt like it was twisted in knots. Stiles tried to calm his breathing as he frantically scanned Derek’s room through his window.

He clutched his shaking hand over his chest and just breathed.


Despite what had happened, Stiles still watched Derek on his laptop like the sad creeper he was. He was fast learning that he may have a problem. A voyeuristic problem that he really should tell someone about or seek help for.

Later, his mind whispered as he continued to watch Derek do another strenuous workout. Stiles got hard again, just like last time, but unlike last time, Derek didn’t leave for a shower right away.

Instead, Stiles watched bug-eyed as he ran a strong capable hand down his sweaty chest.

Stiles’ breath left him in a choked-off gasp, frozen in place as Derek’s nails skimmed his own nipples.

“Oh my god.” Stiles stuttered, because Derek was touching himself. He was sitting here, watching Derek molest his own body and fuck that shouldn’t make him this hard.

Derek’s eyes lowered to half-mast, breathing in deeply through his nose as his hand went lower. Stiles’ own hand mimicked the movement, eyes riveted to Derek’s shuddering form. Derek gasped when his hand slipped inside, encircling his hard arousal and Stiles followed suit, whimpering at the sight.

Derek’s hand worked himself slowly in his loose-fitting pants, and Stiles desperately wanted to see. To go faster, but he forced himself to mirror Derek, being driven slowly insane by the pace.

Derek’s other hand skimmed teasingly along the side of his body, fingers outstretched so only the edge of his palm was allowed to touch, going down far enough that it shoved the waistband of his pants further, just a bit...

“Jesus Derek.” Stiles whispered reverently, hands copying what they saw. His body was hot all over, and he felt good. Extremely good. Like his skin was thrumming.

Derek seemed to momentarily have enough with teasing, because he shoved his pants down to his thighs, the material falling to the floor as he was revealed to Stiles for the first time.

Stiles let out an embarrassingly needy noise, taking in the head of Derek’s leaking cock. Fuck he was big, almost impossibly so and Stiles was left to wonder if the camera added a few inches. Stiles shoved his own pants down without the finesse Derek had used, hissing when he bumped the injury on his hip.

Derek’s fingers were massaging the swollen head of his cock, playing in the precome there, smearing it down and over the shaft. Stiles’ breath caught as he did the same. He watched enraptured as Derek brought a palm to his mouth, licking the taught skin over and over. The microphone was picking up these noises that were making Stiles wet, dick leaking copiously. They sounded like growls.

He followed Derek’s lead when he lowered his wet palm to his aching member and stroked.

“Oh god...” Stiles moaned, forcing his eyes to stay open and watch.

Derek was trembling, as if he was holding himself back, or enjoying himself more than he wanted to show. The guy was restrained even when he jerked off? Seriously. That did things to Stiles. It made him want to push Derek over the edge...

Lose control a little...

“Come on, Derek.” Stiles whined quietly, keeping up with his pace onscreen. “Go faster for me. Make yourself writhe-”

To Stiles’ astonishment, Derek actually snarled. His grip on himself tightening, speeding up as he worked his shaft, wrist flicking to give the head a sharp twist and a teasing squeeze. Stiles whimpered and mirrored the movement, hips stuttering into his hold before a twinge of pain from his hip ran down his spine, adding to his pleasure.

Derek’s other hand dropped down lower between his legs, and Stiles inhaled sharply when he massaged his balls.

The visual display in front of him was too much. Stiles couldn’t stop it. He was going to come soon.

“Close.” He whispered huskily. “So close...”

Derek sped up even faster, back arching in pleasure and Stiles willingly followed him, toes beginning to curl as spots danced in front of his vision.

“Fuck, Derek.” And Stiles could hear that sound again. That growl.

“I’m gonna-”

“Come.” Derek hissed softly on screen, but Stiles heard it like a shout, and with a silent shout of his own, he obeyed.

It was beyond intense, and even though Stiles’ eyes begged to close he forced them to remain wide, watching in awe as Derek let go himself, coming all over his perfect abdomen, and Stiles’ own orgasm was prolonged at the sight.

Stiles shuddered, hand flying over his cock as it twitched in his grasp, continuing to watch just as Derek’s eyes looked directly into the webcam, flashing laser-bright exactly like they did before. But only for a second, and then he was closing them again, body curling in on itself as they both gave one final shiver.

When the orgasm-induced haze cleared, Stiles became mortified. He grabbed the towel he’d used to cover the peas and gave his hands a quick wipe down, fingers weakly slipping as he exited out of the window. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily...feeling ashamed.

He’d just spied on Derek Hale during what the guy had probably thought was a private moment. He’d invaded, like an uninvited guest witnessing what Derek would never allow him to see willingly, and he suddenly felt sick.

He pushed himself out of his chair, wincing when his hip protested, pants falling to the floor as his shirt lowered in the mess on his chest. As carefully as he could, he stripped the rest of the way and threw his soiled clothes in the hamper.

“I’m a horrible, depraved, little voyeuristic spy and I deserve this bruise!” Stiles declared, hobbling his naked way to the shower, feeling every bit like the pathetic loser that he was.


Stiles didn’t open the icon again after that. He would like to say he wasn’t tempted to, but he was trying not to lie to himself at least. And even though he knew he should, he couldn’t bring himself to delete his ability to hijack Derek’s webcam.

He was the lowest of the low.

He didn’t want to go to school the next day, but the thought of being alone with his laptop would just be too tempting, so he forced his ass to get up.

His bruise was sporting almost every color of the rainbow now, and he was still walking like he had hip displacement. Why were injuries always worse the second day?

Stiles shuffled his way to his jeep, throwing his backpack in before struggling inside himself. He sighed and turned the key.

His jeep wouldn’t start.

He tried again.


“Fucking alternator.” Stiles growled before slapping his palms on the steering wheel. “Come on!” He yelled into the quiet.

Again, nothing. He pressed his forehead into the wheel, teeth sinking into his lip while he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Stiles let out a breath, forcing himself to calm down.

“You’re a terrible person and you deserve this.” He mumbled dejectedly, throwing the door to his jeep open before ambling out.

“Need a ride?”

Stiles almost lost his footing, grabbing onto the jeep’s door handle before he could embarrass himself any further.

Derek Hale was watching him from over the hood.

"Huh?" Stiles spluttered.

Derek’s lips actually twitched in something that looked suspiciously like amusement before he repeated the question.

“Sounds like car trouble. Did you need a ride?”

Are you kidding? The very reason karma was seeing fit to stick it to him was offering him a ride. This couldn’t be a good idea.

“Nope. No thanks. I mean, thanks but no. I’ll just, um...walk.”

“I saw you get hit on the field yesterday. You sure you’re fit to move around?”

Stiles held in his wince. Of course Derek had seen him fall. And he deserved that. Cause he was a horrible person.

“Yup.” Stiles said instead. “I’m mobile. See?” He then gave a horrific demonstration by damn near waddling up his driveway.

Derek was grinning now.

“You look a little strained.”

“Nope. I’m fine.”

“Get in my car, Stiles. I’m going to run some errands anyway.” Derek demanded, and Stiles found himself staring after his retreating form in shock. When Derek got to his car door he turned back again, motioning him over.

Stiles sighed and shouldered his backpack.

“You deserve this torture.” He muttered to himself before limping after Derek.


The drive to school was awkward...and quiet. And Stiles did not do good with awkward quiet.

“I’m surprised you let me near you car again, after what I did to the Camaro.” He laughed nervously, pulse rising as he watched Derek’s nostrils flare at the memory.

“Too soon?”

Derek ignored him and Stiles sighed, leaning his head against the window.

“So...why were you at practice yesterday?”

“Just passing through.”

Stiles snorted. “Passing through? To what? There’s nothing near the high school.”

“I sometimes walk the trail that’s out in the woods over there. The game caught my attention.”

“You mean the smackdown.” Stiles corrected bitterly.

“What was with that kid anyway?” Derek asked off-handedly and Stiles shrugged.

“Who, Jackson? He’s rich, full of teenage-angst and completely misunderstood.” He answered sarcastically and Derek was back to almost grinning.

“Oh is that what it is?”

“Add a helping dose of raging hormones and testosterone and I would say that about covers it.”

Derek shook his head when he pulled into the school parking lot. Stiles sat in uncomfortable silence as he was driven to the curb, allowing him less distance to walk.

“Why’d you give me a ride?” He suddenly blurted, and Derek was looking at him curiously.

“Why did you accept the offer?”

“Why’d you keep my ball?” Stiles shot back, and Derek was smirking almost dangerously at him now. Stiles’ breath caught because Derek was leaning forward, body shifting slowly into his trembling one.

But then Derek’s hand reached across him, fingers skimming his shuddering abdomen and Stiles heard the click of his seatbelt unbuckling.

“Have a good day at school, Stiles.” Derek said huskily, moving back and sitting up straight, allowing Stiles to breathe.

“ this a one way thing, or are you gonna pick me up after school?”

Derek shot him a pointed glare and Stiles scrambled for the door handle.

“Right, I’ll just-”

Stiles stumbled out, turning back to gather his backpack.

“Thanks for the ride.” He said, shutting the door as Derek continued to stare after him.


Stiles had a miserable day at school and the only thing that kept him from ditching was his mantra of ‘you deserve to be miserable.’

But by fifth period he decided karma could go fuck itself. He stuck it out though, and when the bell finally went off signaling the end of another pointless day he was grateful. There was no way he was staying for practice, so he hobbled his way to the parking lot, unable to stop himself from scanning the cars in search of Derek’s.

Of course he wasn’t there.

Stiles called his dad.


“Can you come get me.” Stiles asked pitifully and his dad immediately sounded worried.

“What happened? Where’s the jeep?”

“It wouldn’t start this morning, and I kind of got injured during practice, so walking is brutal-”

“I’ll be there in five.”

Stiles breathed a little easier. “Thanks dad.”

“Sit tight kiddo.”


Stiles was dropped off in the cruiser, and he waved goodbye to his dad as he drove back to work. He shuffled his way up the drive, pointedly not looking at the Hale house. Not checking to see if Derek’s car was there.

It didn’t matter either way.

Slipping inside the door, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and very maturely decided that his homework could go fuck itself. Today called for relaxation and hours spent mindlessly in front of the TV.

Plus, he didn’t want to be alone in his room right now. Not yet. So he collapsed on the sofa, hiking his feet up onto the coffee table and settling in for some rerun episodes of guy code.


Stiles finally headed up to his room around ten o’clock. His dad had called, explaining he would be working another late night, and to eat the leftovers in the fridge.

Another night spent alone. He didn’t mind, really. He was used to it.

Stiles climbed the stairs slowly, being extra careful with the rickety seventh step and made it to the top with a relieved breath. He just wanted to pass out and sleep for a week.

When he walked into his room, he paused. His laptop was on, and video feed from Derek’s webcam displayed his empty room on the screen.

He hadn’t left that on...

Stiles was suddenly grabbed from behind. Two strong arms enclosing him in an unbreakable grip. He struggled, but it was useless. Stiles wasn’t getting anywhere, and his hip flared up painfully with the attempt. A hot palm was closed over his mouth, muting his ability to scream.

Stiles’ clenched fist was still punching into hard flesh, but it wasn’t even phasing his captor, and his hand fell in exhaustion. He gasped when the man behind him leaned further in, lips caressing the sensitive lobe of his ear as he whispered:

“You’ve been spying on me.”

Stiles heartbeat accelerated and his stomach dropped at the same time.

“Derek?” He mouthed into his palm, and Derek’s hold on him eased up ever so slightly when he stopped struggling.

“Did you enjoy the show, Stiles? See anything you liked?”

“How did you-”

“Figure it out?” Derek finished for him, and Stiles trembled in his arms. He sounded dangerous...

“There’s a light next to each webcam, Stiles. When the camera is turned on, so is the light. And the same day that starts happening I see your little friend Danny leaving your house. Now, didn’t he get in trouble with the law for doing something like this before?” Derek asked mockingly, body pressing harder into Stiles’, locking them together unbelievably close.

Stiles hissed in a breath, trying to calm his nerves. It didn’t work.

“You knew from the beginning I was watching you, and you still-”

“Still what?" Derek demanded. "What did you see, Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head, but Derek's face nuzzled into his neck, making him shiver with something other than nerves.

“What did you see?” Derek repeated, tone soft, yet leaving no room for insubordination.

“I saw you.” Stiles choked out as Derek’s hand pressed into his chest making its way towards his abdomen.

“Saw me what?”

His fingers were skimming his stomach now dancing over the bare skin his hiked-up shirt revealed. They dipped lower, tugging on the trail of hair just beneath his navel, and Stiles’ breath was hitching as his eyes went wide.

He felt it then. Derek was hard against him, and he wasn’t in a much better state himself.

“I saw you touch yourself.” He admitted, Derek’s fingers teasing along the waistband of his jeans.

“No, Stiles. You didn’t just see, did you? You watched me touch myself.”

“Yes.” Stiles hissed, the tip of Derek’s index finger sinking just inside his pants.

“Did it make you hard? Did it make your blood boil beneath your skin while you spied on me?”


"Don't lie. I can tell if you lie to me. Answer the question."

“Yes.” Stiles whispered again as more fingers dipped low.

“Did you touch yourself?”


“Did you come?”

Yes!” Stiles cried, eyes squeezing shut.

“I know.” Derek whispered cryptically against his ear, hand finally closing around his aching cock. Stiles’ back arched further into Derek, and he was mewling in frightened pleasure.

“What else did you see?” Derek demanded, and Stiles was confused, and lost, and so completely overwhelmed. What else was there?

He whimpered and Derek made a tsking sound with his tongue.

“Come on, Stiles. I know you saw. You’re the clever one. Always figuring things out. Now what did you see that you couldn’t make sense of? Something that didn’t quite add up...”

Stiles tried to think, even as Derek’s grip tightened making his hips thrust into his hand, unable to stop the moans that escaped while he writhed...

“Hush, Stiles. Concentrate.” Derek ordered even as he began to squeeze, and Stiles desperately wanted to obey. He chased down the thought that was tickling at the edge of his mind.

What had he seen that was out of place?

What had he seen...


“Your eyes!” Stiles cried out, hips thrusting in victory. “Your eyes looked an animal’s.”

“Very good.” Derek growled, fingers dancing over the swollen head of his cock in reward. Stiles was lost to the pleasure, almost going over the edge but Derek pulled away.

“I want you to look at me now, Stiles. Watch me.” Derek instructed, confident enough to release him as he walked around his body, not stopping until he stood directly before him.

Stiles did as he was told, almost losing it completely when Derek dropped to his knees, deft fingers pulling the clasp of jeans apart, slipping the material all the way down...

He didn’t stop until Stiles was completely bare, hungry eyes greedily taking in his excitement.

“Eyes on me.” Derek ordered softly and Stiles gave a sharp nod that he understood.

He watched completely captivated as Derek opened his lush mouth wide and swallowed him whole. His knees nearly buckled, but Derek lifted his hands up and placed them on his shoulders, silently demanding that he anchor himself.

Stiles’ fingers clenched and squeezed in strong muscle and Derek systematically took him apart with his mouth. His tongue flicked at the base before he eased him out enough to lick at the head, tasting him where he leaked.

Stiles was so close, and when Derek’s wicked fingers pressed sharply into the bruise on his hip he was right there, the pain making it that much more intense. Stiles continued to watch Derek, just like he’d been told, but then Derek’s eyes met his-

They were glowing bright blue.

Stiles lost it. His body seized up, his toes curling against the carpet as he called out Derek’s name. Derek didn’t stop swallowing around him, and his gaze never left Stiles.

Stiles was crashing from the high of orgasm, oversensitive as Derek continued to lick him up. He tried to shove him away, whining in the back of his throat when Derek refused to budge. A deep growl resonated in his chest, and his eyes flashed an even darker shade of blue.

Stiles stood motionless, part of him was terrified but the other part was getting intensely aroused again.

Derek eventually pulled off, but only when he was ready to.

“You’re not human.” Stiles declared breathlessly, feeling ridiculous for saying it out loud.

“You’re not running.” Derek shot back making an observation of his own. “Which makes me think you’re either brave, or stupid.”

Stiles slowly lifted a shoulder up in a weak half-shrug.

“I’ve known you all my life. If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it when I fucked up your car.”

Derek let out a growl that had Stiles stepping back.

“Still too soon?” He asked before Derek threw him on the bed. Stiles bounced twice and settled, eyes never leaving the older man.

“Take the rest of your clothes off.” He ordered, and Stiles scrambled to remove his shirt, throwing it towards the corner of his room. He waited anxiously for Derek’s next order.

“Touch yourself.” He demanded, and Stiles’ pulse skyrocketed as his eyes widened.


“I want. To watch you. Touch yourself.” He enunciated. “It’s only fair, right? I mean, you did spy on me, so I want to see you. Go on, Stiles.” Derek encouraged, lowering himself onto his desk chair. “Touch yourself for me.”

Stiles continued to stare openly at Derek as his hand moved down of its own accord. Derek’s grin widened, eyes flashing once Stiles' fingers closed around his softened cock.

Stiles was still sensitive, and his back was bowing into the overwhelming sensation of too much, moaning over the fact that Derek was right there, electric-blue eyes drinking in the visual he made.

"Slower." Derek demanded gruffly, making Stiles groan as his pace changed, slowing to a crawl. His hips were trying to fuck up into his palm but Stiles forced himself to stop when his eyes caught on Derek's glowing in the darkened room.

Stiles was getting hard in his palm, and he watched as Derek's head lifted up to scent the air, a sigh of pleasure rumbling deeply in his chest.

"God you smell good." He growled, and Stiles whined, cock twitching in his grasp. "You know how many times I sat in my room, forced to smell you like this because you just couldn't stop touching yourself?"

Stiles shook his head frantically, eyes squeezing shut as his dick hardened fully. "You can smell me from your house?"

Derek gave a dark chuckle that had Stiles' eyes opening again, body trembling at the look he was giving him.

"Stiles...I can smell you from miles away if I wanted."

Stiles arched up, letting out a desperate sounding cry that Derek lapped up with smug satisfaction. He wanted to go faster, needed to go faster, but Derek had said-

"Turn over, Stiles."

Stiles scrambled to do what he was told, not bothering to ask how Derek would be able to watch him if he was on his stomach like this.

"Hands and knees. Keep stroking yourself."

Stiles once again moved to follow orders, not having time to be embarrassed over how exposed he felt. His hand slipped down between his legs, gripping his length once more. He was starting to leak again.

Stiles mewled when his thumb swept over his sensitive head, and he shivered when he felt the bed dip.

So maybe Derek wasn't just going to watch...

"Have you ever let anyone see you like this, Stiles?" Derek asked menacingly behind him, and Stiles shook his head quickly in an answer. Derek's hot palm was tracing over his bruise, curving down his thigh.

"Have you ever let anyone touch you like this?"

Again, Stiles shook his head and Derek growled in possession.

"Do you know what'll happen if you let anyone other than me inside?"

Stiles whimpered as he continued to stroke, Derek's body lowering to cover him completely. Derek had removed his clothes when Stiles couldn't see him, and there were no barriers between them now.

"I'll find them," Derek promised darkly on a whisper, "and I'll tear them apart. And then I'll find you, and I wont be happy. Do you understand? There's no place you can hide from me. Only I can have you."

Derek's body rubbed into his, his face nuzzling the back of Stiles' neck, stubble raising goose bumps over his flesh as Derek's hands ran all over him. Stiles could feel his leaking arousal bumping up into the cleft of his ass, making him want to thrust back...

"Tell me what I want to hear, Stiles."

"I understand." Stiles wheezed, lungs having difficultly taking in air and expanding all the way. "Only you."

Derek's chest rumbled in satisfaction and Stiles hissed in pleasure when one of Derek's big hands wrapped over his own on his aching cock, fingers entwining over hard flesh and stroking together.

Stiles' head fell between his heaving shoulders as Derek released him after a few pumps, and he tried not to let anymore needy noises escape. An impossible feat.

But then Derek was leaning back, hands going to his ass and spreading his cheeks and Stiles tried to cover himself in embarrassment.

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered, hand leaving his dick to fly back and obstruct Derek's view.

"It's okay." Derek soothed, moving Stiles' hand back to his leaking erection. "Keep touching yourself. I just wanna see..."

And Stiles didn't know why he believed him. Derek didn't even sound like he believed himself. But he resumed stroking, regardless.

Derek was back to spreading him open again, not doing anything but staring, and Stiles' body tensed, sparks of surprised-pleasure shooting up his spine. And then Derek's weight was shifting and Stiles was almost flying off the bed when he felt hot breath right fucking there.

"Hold still." Derek whispered tightening his grip until it was impossible to move, and Stiles whimpered in protest.

"Derek, don't-" He begged, trembling when Derek breathed his response against his opening.

"You'll like it, I promise."


But Derek's tongue was already moving, circling his entrance and lapping at it like it was coated in sugar. Derek made a satisfied sound deep in his throat that vibrated its way into Stiles’ body and made him arch further into Derek rather than away. This pleased the older man immensely, and Derek pressed himself more insistently into Stiles, tongue teasing along the edge of his rim before sinking inside.

"Oh my god!" Stiles cried out, hand flying over his dick as his body turned on itself, all functionality shutting down in rebellion against the sheer pleasure of it all. Even his hand eventually fell from his swollen flesh, suddenly refusing to cooperate anymore.

But then Derek was there, his own hand taking his place as he started to move it against him in a steady rhythm. Stiles body didn't know whether to shove back into Derek's face or push forward into his delicious grip. He lost it, and decided to rut against whatever part of Derek he could reach.

Derek's tongue kept fucking into him, and Stiles was spilling these noises that were driving the man insane, growling as he thrust in harder.

"Derek I'm-"

"Do it!" Derek snarled against his hole and Stiles let go. The warmth that had been steadily building in his stomach set to burn, and his body tensed and released at the same time. All throughout his violent orgasm Derek refused to let him go, refused to let him rest as he milked him of every last possible reaction.

Stiles felt like a twitching, writhing mess when he was finally released.

"What are you?" He whispered in awe, eyes fluttering closed as his body tried and failed to recover.

Derek was above him then, shifting Stiles' limbs so he was in a more comfortable position before he wrapped his warm body around him.

"You really wanna have this conversation now?" Derek whispered huskily against his ear, hips shifting to make his still prominent erection known.

Stiles whined and pushed back, dick jerking with stubborn interest.

"You know those fairy tales you used to read when you were a kid?"

Stiles nodded, because he still had those books, even though he used to get teased for them by other kids his age.

"I'm something from a fairy tale." Derek whispered like it was a secret being shared between them. He groaned when he began to thrust in between Stiles' quivering thighs and Stiles found himself pushing back.

"Prince charming?" Stiles asked, body already reawakening with fuzzy arousal, and Derek growled his answer against his ear.

"Not even close."

"A very manly fairy godmother?" Stiles stuttered, legs squeezing Derek's cock, giving him a tight channel to thrust into. Derek snarled in pleasure.

"Don't make me laugh." He warned, teeth nipping at his ear.

"The huntsmen?" Stiles asked frantic, hand squeezing between his body and the mattress to try and touch himself again.

"Getting warmer."

"The big bad wolf?" He cried, and Derek stopped his brutal pace, hips rolling torturously slow in controlled movements.

"Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Stiles?" Derek whispered, teeth sharper-than-normal nipping at his throat. Stiles trembled feeling the points of fangs against his flesh, but it wasn’t a tremble of fear, and he shook his head.

"No." Derek breathed, answering his own question. "Of course you're not afraid."

And then Derek's wet lubricated finger was circling his entrance, and Stiles couldn't even wonder about what he had used to slick the way because he was keening, trying to force Derek's finger in deeper.

But Derek refused to give him what he wanted, teasing, circling, adding just the slightest threat of pressure, so only the tip breached him before easing back out again. Stiles whined in protest, but his pleas went unnoticed.

"You remember that story you would sometimes get me to read to you when you were eight? You said it was your favorite. What was it called again?" Stiles whimpered at the sound of Derek's voice, asking him questions absentmindedly while he played with him, thrusting inside just a bit rougher. Just a bit deeper.

"The w-wolf and the crane." He gasped, hips canting up to try and bring him further inside.

"The wolf and the crane." Derek repeated nostalgically. "The wolf gets a bone lodged in his throat, and he begs all the other animals to try and take it out. He even offers up a reward, but they all refuse to help, knowing that the wolf will probably kill them anyway."

Derek's fingers sink in to the second knuckle, and Stiles' back is arching, eyes fluttering in pleasure.

"The crane is the only one that offers him aid, actually sticking his beak in the wolf's mouth and successfully removing the bone."

Stiles' groans when Derek grasps his hand and pulls it back behind him, wrapping his shaking fingers up in the wet heat of his mouth, tongue swirling around the digits as his sharp teeth nip teasingly. The sensation goes straight to his cock and Stiles is reduced to humping his mattress like an animal in heat. Derek pulls off of his fingers with a satisfied curl of his tongue.

"When the crane asked for his reward what did the wolf say?"

Stiles swallowed, throat dry and refusing to emit sound.

"What did he say, Stiles?" Derek pressed, and Stiles coughed, trying again, wondering how Derek could expect him to make sense in this state.

"He said 'y-you have put your head inside of a wolf's mouth and taken it out again in safety. That should be reward enough."

Derek gave a deep rumbling hum, pleased. Stiles felt him lean in closer, hips picking up his slow rhythm as he started to thrust between his trembling thighs again. Stiles shuddered when a hot tongue traced from his throat all the way up to the lobe of his ear, each exhalation making Stiles' toes curl.

"You're my crane, Stiles." Derek breathed, nuzzling at the boy’s jaw. “You’re the only one willing enough to put yourself in that kind of the way of my danger...”

Stiles keened when another finger swiftly entered him, scissoring inside and spreading him open.

“You’re the only one who is allowed. The only one I would never hurt. The exception.”

Derek thrust in sharply, and Stiles was holding back sobs now. Everything felt just this side of too much. He was steadily being consumed by it.

“And do you know why?” Derek demanded, fingers pushing deeper, catching against something inside that made Stiles release his held in cries as his eyes rolled up and his body jerked into the treatment. Derek stilled his hand, giving him a moment to come back to himself, body lying limply on his bed as he breathed in harshly and let it all go on a sigh. He knew what Derek was waiting for, and so he gave his answer.

“Because I’m yours.” He whispered, without any hint of hesitation or uncertainty in his voice, and Derek growled in absolute pleasure and satisfaction, eyes flashing as he bared his teeth in a show of dominance. Stiles looked at him over his shoulder seeing the part of him that was more animal than human. The part that functioned on pure instinct alone, and still he was not afraid. This pleased Derek further.

“You make a worthy mate.” He rumbled deeply into his shoulder, but before Stiles could ask what he meant, Derek was latching onto his flesh, teeth sinking in just enough to break the skin’s surface, blood welling up before spilling over the incisions.

Stiles was losing his mind as Derek lapped at the blood, the pain intensifying his pleasure ten-fold as Derek’s fingers continued to hit that amazing spot inside him, slipping in a third seamlessly.

“Derek?” Stiles trembled just as Derek’s teeth sunk into the bite he’d already made, tearing the skin just a bit more as he slotted inside, like puzzle pieces coming together. Stiles gave a guttural shout and came against the bed again, his hand pumping himself quickly while Derek’s fingers fucked him through his third orgasm of the night.

Three orgasms, and Derek had yet to even come once-

“I’m not finished with you.” Derek growled into his skin, as if reading his mind, and Stiles was still writhing in the aftershocks of his pleasure. Derek moved away and he was suddenly flipped onto his back like a rag doll, pressed into the wet spot he’d just made from his release, and that shouldn’t be hot, really.

Derek was on display before him, forcing Stiles’ thighs apart so he could kneel in between, arching in a way that had him almost leaning back against his calves. This was the first time Stiles could really look at him, and not just through the lens of a camera. Derek was stroking his massive cock, unashamed as Stiles’ eyes greedily drank it in. He was leaking at the head, and Stiles unconsciously licked his lips.

“Do you want a taste?” Derek asked softly, almost vulnerably, and Stiles head was nodding adamantly before he even had a chance to breathe.

Derek’s eyes flashed, lighting up with an aquamarine color before darkening to a burning sapphire. Stiles’ response made him rumble with need.

Stiles watched captivated as Derek’s fingers swirled over the head of his cock, gathering what he could on his fingers before holding it out to Stiles’ lips in offering.

Stiles was nothing if not curious, and he had tried his own come before, shrugging at the salty taste of it, but he found he was desperate to know what Derek’s flavor was.

He parted his swollen lips greedily, leaning forward to take in Derek’s fingers. Derek met him halfway, digits slipping inside his mouth to rub against his tongue, letting Stiles lap up everything he had to give.

Derek tasted different from his own release. More sweet than salty, and Stiles was moaning in the back of his throat like a slut for it. He couldn’t feel embarrassed or even shocked at the sheer need he felt. Instead he was liberated by the freedom and Derek was enraptured by his openness.

Derek ripped his fingers out of Stiles’ mouth and instead replaced them with his tongue, tasting himself wherever he stroked. Stiles was moaning down his throat, and Derek greedily swallowed it all down. This was their first kiss, and the only thing that stopped him from feeling guilty over the fact that he hadn’t kissed Stiles sooner was the realization that here and now, the kiss was absolutely perfect.

Derek pulled away, just enough to trace Stiles’ lips with the tip of his tongue, moving in to hold the bottom one captive between his teeth. Stiles’ hand gripped the back of his neck, forcefully pulling him closer to deepen the kiss once more. Derek growled into it. His wolf excited by Stiles’ boldness, but he eventually wrestled him down and Stiles unconsciously bared his neck in a show of submission.

Derek whined in the back of his throat, eyeing every inch of his mate before sinking down to latch onto a pert, pink nipple.

“Nnngghh.” Stiles cried, sounding as if he had been about to say something before it was choked off by Derek’s talented mouth. His hands flew to Derek’s hair, fingers sinking in the strands. He’d always liked Derek’s hair. He used to play with it when he was little and it hadn’t yet been considered strange. When he’d gotten old enough to know better, the desire was still there, but the intent was no longer innocent.

Derek laid his body out over Stiles, slotting in between his shaking thighs as Stiles bent them at the knee, bringing them up to wrap sinuously around Derek’s waist and pulling him in even closer.

“Need to be inside you.” Derek begged, hands coming up to cup both sides of his jaw, fingers tracing the moles he could reach.

Stiles was nodding in his grip, glistening eyes boring into Derek’s. The way the older man was looking at he was something to be ravished, and cherished...

Like he was the most important person. It was doing things to Stiles.

Derek hitched his legs up higher, presenting his lower half as he was arched into position. He watched Derek watching him as he licked his palm, coating it in saliva before his hand slipped between their bodies, bypassing Stiles reawakened erection to grasp his own, getting it slick.

Stiles’ own hand bumped awkwardly between them, his eyes desperate as his fingers sought Derek’s excited flesh.

“Wanna touch you.” He said by way of explanation when Derek stared down at him in confusion. Derek actually whimpered when Stiles fingers joined his own over his aching arousal, fingers interlacing as they pumped him in preparation. But then Derek was throwing both their hands off, panting heavily as his forehead rested against Stiles’ chest.

“Too much.” He said between deep, ragged breaths. “God Stiles, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Stiles wanted to argue, cause he was pretty sure Derek had that flipped around. Still, he was nothing if not insistent, so Stiles fingers once again grasped the shaft of Derek’s cock, drinking in Derek’s wide eyes as he positioned him against his entrance, holding him there.

“Don’t wanna wait anymore.” He whispered, legs tightening around Derek as his hand helped guide him inside.

Derek’s eyes never once left his, and Stiles forced himself not to give in to the pleasure and allow his lids to fall closed. He needed to see this. Needed to see Derek. Their gazes never left each other as Derek slowly sank in. They stayed even as Derek bottomed out and all the breath left Stiles on a gasp. He was there. He was in. He was everywhere.

“Stiles.” Derek whispered in awe, and again Stiles thought it should be the other way around.

Derek shifted back, easing out of him until just the head remained. Leaning all the way down Derek licked into his mate’s mouth as he thrust back inside.

Stiles’ body arched into the sensation, trying to make the push and pull as smooth as possible, desperately wanting to sink down onto Derek’s cock as he moved out, feeling momentarily empty before he was filled again. Derek’s hands trapped his wrists, holding him down against the mattress while he fucked him slow, but then his hands traveled up, and their fingers intertwined in a firm grip. Stiles could see and feel the elongated nails, turning to sharp points and creating claws.

He wanted to feel them. The threat. The danger. The fact that Derek could probably use them to shred something to pieces, but he would never use them to hurt Stiles, it was a fact he instinctually knew without having to be told, and it made his very foundation shake.

Derek continued to pump into him, hips snapping against the globes of his ass. He was leaking between them, making a mess of both their stomachs as Derek’s abs rubbed against the hard shaft and swollen head of his arousal, creating delicious friction that was making Stiles thighs tremble and his toes curl in pleasure.

Derek moaned as Stiles’ passage clenched unbelievably tight around him and his hips stuttered, slamming deeper and harder inside then he had before.

Stiles cried out in surprise, eyes flying wide open, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ in his shock. Derek stilled, exercising control that was steadily wavering due to Stiles' response.

“Sorry.” Derek gritted out in genuine regret at causing the boy discomfort. But then Stiles’ legs were tightening around him and he was practically forcing Derek’s hips to slam into him.

“Again.” He whispered breathlessly, frustrated that he couldn’t make Derek go faster no matter how many times he tried.

“Come on, Derek.” Stiles whined, rolling his hips back and shoving. “Again!”

Derek pulled out almost completely, Stiles’ holding his breath as he stood poised and utterly still.

“Fuck me.” Stiles pleaded, and Derek was gone. He pounded back inside with such force that the headboard banged violently against the wall. Stiles cried out, his head shoving deeper into his pillows as his throat was bared, his body crumbling in on itself like paper when it’s set to burn.

Derek rutted into him, snapping his hips harder against the cleft of Stiles’ ass, forcing himself in deeper. He aimed for that spot inside Stiles that made him writhe and lose his mind and every time he nailed it.

“God, you’re so tight.” He growled, fucking Stiles loose and open before he closed around him like a vice all over again.

Stiles was biting at the pillow case, muffling the sounds steadily flowing out of his mouth. Derek’s hand grasped his jaw, tightening until Stiles was forced to release.

“Wanna hear you.” He growled, continuing to fuck up into him. “Wanna hear everything you have to say...”

Stiles whimpered, because he could honestly recall that no one had ever said those words to him.

“How are you doing this to me?” He choked out, body reacting to Derek as if he were creation and Derek his creator.

“We belong to each other.” Was all Derek would say on the matter, but Stiles was happy with the answer.

Derek’s clawed hand shot up, grasping the swaying headboard in a strong grip, using it to give him more force to his thrusts while his other hand held Stiles’ hips, moving him back into each stroke. Stiles was slipping away. He could feel it and a sort of panic settled in.

“It’s okay.” Derek panted, continuing to pound into the boy. “I’m right here. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Stiles’ hands weaved around Derek’s back, clutching him like a lifeline as he was continuously ravaged. He was going to come, he could feel it building up in the pit of his stomach again, working out along his nerves, into his bloodstream and up his spine.

He was so close...

“Not yet.” Derek growled, grasping the base of his cock and squeezing painfully, cutting off his oncoming orgasm and pushing it back.

Stiles let out a guttural cry as he writhed in Derek’s arms.

“Shh, I know.” Derek soothed, pushing back the sweat-plastered hair against his forehead. “Almost, I promise. Just a little bit more. You’re so good for me.”

Stiles could barely register what Derek was whispering to him, but he felt soothed, and his body began to slowly burn again, the fire raging steadily higher. Derek was sucking along his jaw, lips meeting Stiles in a messy kiss.

“God Stiles, you feel so good. Can’t anymore...gonna-”

“Please.” Stiles sobbed. It was all he could do. He wasn’t even sure if he could come anymore. His dick felt like it was full-to-bursting and heavy.

Derek slammed into him, body curling downwards, blue eyes flashing into Stiles’ holding him captive with his gaze. Stiles watched enraptured as Derek’s body uncurled, back bowing as his neck arched to let out a howl. The sound was chilling in its beauty and Stiles unconsciously got closer to him as Derek’s cock swelled impossibly huge inside him, getting hotter and bigger. Expanding.

Stiles’ eyes were widening, his body no longer under his control as it shoved back into Derek, trying to bring him even further inside. Even deeper. His rim was stretched to the limit and he could feel the second Derek started to come inside him.

Stiles screamed, and he found his fourth orgasm completely untouched. His vision blacked out, and his body became taught in release. He was shaking and writhing and throughout it all he felt Derek holding him through it, anchoring him as if he would float away without it. He felt like he was drifting as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his cock spurting one last dribble of come before settling. He felt as if his strings had been cut. A loose empty shell that was carried away with the tide.

Derek moved them ever so carefully until they were both on their sides. Stiles' eyes were closed, but he could feel Derek's gaze on him, his hot breath caressing his face as he continued to stare and worry in silence.

"Stiles?" Derek whispered, sounding borderline upset, and Stiles opened his eyes to be able to set him at ease.

"M'fine." He mumbled sleepily, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Just tired." He grinned, shifting to nuzzle into Derek's chest and froze when he felt a pull at his opening, hand shooting down to trace over his stretched rim. Derek hissed and shuddered at the touch of clumsy digits, and Stiles acquired the same reaction.

"Are you-"

"We're kind of tied to each other."

"Tied?" Stiles asked slowly, and Derek nodded looking almost embarrassed. Stiles coughed and attempted to be reasonable.

"For how long?"

"I don't know." Derek admitted, looking even more upset with himself then before. "I've never...I haven't...I've never knotted anyone else. Before, I mean. It's kind of significant."

"Oh. Oh." Stiles whispered, suddenly getting it. "So I'm...significant?"

Derek nodded firmly and Stiles grinned. He burrowed deeper into his lover's arms, sighing in pleasure when Derek shifted inside him again.

"What are you?" He asked softly, fingers tracing patterns over Derek's chest.

"I bet you already know the answer." Derek replied, sounding oddly proud. Stiles shrugged.

"The way you you said you could smell me. The way your eyes glow, and your nails turn into also howled when you...came..."

"What else?" Derek encouraged, and he grinned when he felt Stiles frown against him, putting all the pieces together.

"You said you were a wolf, and don't laugh at me for this, but my guess would be...a werewolf."

Derek's chest rumbled in satisfaction, and he hugged Stiles tighter to himself.

"You always were clever." He answered, placing a sweet kiss atop Stiles' hair.

"I got it right?"

"Got it in one." Derek praised, and Stiles beamed against his skin.

"How did you even get in here?" Stiles suddenly felt the need to ask. He could feel Derek shaking with quiet mirth.

"You never lock your window."

"My room is on the second floor." Stiles answered indignant and Derek shrugged.

"Didn't stop me."

Stiles shook his head, moving slightly to inhale the scent at Derek's neck.

"So...does this mean you forgive me?"

"Forgive you for what?" Derek asked absently, hand stroking up and down Stiles' spine.

"For ruining your car."

Derek sighed. "I did love that car." He whispered teasingly, and Stiles' tongue licked sensuously over his nipple.

"Will you let me make it up to you?"

Derek gasped in surprise, feeling his cock harden even more inside Stiles' tight passage.

"I could be persuaded."