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It started as most things in Derek Hale’s life had lately, with a simple, irritated thought.
He should really shut the hell up.
Stiles had been talking for nine minutes straight. Derek knew, because he’d been counting. Not consciously at first, but somewhere around minute three, something inside him began to twist.
He braced himself against the kitchen counter, fingers gripping the edge, his lips pressing into a hard line as he stared at the way Stiles’ mouth moved like it didn’t know how to stop.
Stiles wasn’t making sense anymore; his words tumbled faster and louder, piling into a frantic rush. Half of it was sarcasm, the rest wild theories thrown out just to fill the air. It was like he was building something out of noise alone—layer after layer of nonsense—as if talking enough would keep everything else from caving in.
Derek could have made him stop.
He imagined pushing Stiles back, his hand locking at the nape of his neck, feeling the skin warm and tense under his palm. He could almost feel the slight hitch in Stiles’ breath as he stumbled, just enough to throw him off balance.
The thought kept repeating, over and over, threading deeper into him every time Stiles threw out another word. Another smartass jab. Another deflection disguised as brilliance.
That mouth. That fucking mouth.
Derek’s wolf stirred, restless under his skin. Not out of anger—not really. This was something darker. He wanted to command him. Pin him. He wanted to see that mouth go slack with submission. Wanted the silence that came not from fear, but from surrender.
Something thick coiled in Derek’s chest, tension winding tighter with every second. He drew a shallow breath through his nose, though it barely felt like air. Stiles’ scent hit him hard, sharp with adrenaline and tinged with nervous energy, always carrying that constant, subtle edge of arousal that never faded.
He spun around, hands gesturing wildly, frustration rising in his voice as his eyes darted around the room. “I mean, it’s not like anyone ever listens to me anyway,” he said, unaware of the weight behind Derek’s silence.
“But this time, I have actual logic on my side. Not that logic matters when you have werewolf instincts and an alpha growly brain or whatever. Which, by the way, is so not helpful when I’m trying to have a conversation like a normal person. But no, it’s always: ‘Stiles, shut up,’ or ‘Stiles, stay in the car,’ or—”
Derek cut him off, snapping, “Do you ever shut up?” His eyes flared bright red, fierce and blazing in the dim light.
Stiles flinched, surprise flickering in his amber eyes. His scent grew stronger, carrying a heat that filled the space between them, impossible to ignore. Derek could hear his heartbeat spike, a frantic rhythm that hammered against his ribs.
“Um, rude. You were clearly one of the people I was talking about.” Stiles crossed his arms, not backing down in the slightest. His mouth set into a stubborn line, but his eyes were bright with challenge, daring Derek to say something else.
He tipped his chin up, jaw set at that smug angle he wore like armor, as if he knew exactly how unbearable he could be and leaned into it anyway. It made Derek want to bite him. Or kiss him breathless. Maybe tear him apart completely.
“But hey,” Stiles continued, mock innocence curling his words, “if you wanted me quiet, you could’ve just kissed me. Worked for some people in high school.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
Silence fell instantly. He didn’t move or blink, just stared, unreadable and intense, seeing through the joke, through the bravado, straight into the pulse flickering beneath Stiles’ skin.
Stiles shifted, his smirk faltering. He licked his lips, suddenly unsure, and the tilt of his head softened, no longer defiant, just vulnerable. “I—I was joking,” he stammered, his confidence slipping away. “Obviously.”
Derek didn’t want to joke. He didn’t want to trade snark or keep pretending this was anything less than what it was. He wanted Stiles to shut up. Not to be fully silent. No, he still wanted to hear him.
He wanted the catch of breath that came when words ran dry. The desperate, shaky moans that tore from deep inside Stiles’ chest when Derek clenched onto his hips and pulled him close, teeth grazing the curve of his jaw.
But the talking? The endless stream of sarcasm and deflection, the way Stiles built walls out of noise just to keep people from getting too close? Derek wanted that to stop. He wanted to take him apart until there was nothing left to say.
Stiles’ tongue darted out, wetting his lips in a quick, anxious gesture. “Say something, dude. You’re making me nervous.”
Derek’s claws itched beneath his skin, a low burn crawling up his arms as his wolf surged just under the surface.
Wild, hungry, and done waiting.
His pulse drummed heavy in his ears, and when he stepped forward, it was with the slow precision of a predator that already knew it had won, every movement deliberate, meant to press the weight of each inch closed between them.
He knew Stiles felt it too—saw it in the hitch of his breath, the quick rise of his chest, the way his pupils went wide with anticipation.
Derek’s hand shot out, rough fingers tangling in Stiles’ thick brown hair, gripping firmly at the crown and yanking his head back. The sharp motion pulled a gasp from Stiles’ lips.
His wolf growled its approval.
He crowded in close, pushing Stiles’ body until the cold edge of the kitchen counter dug into his waist. His hips rolled forward with a force that left no room for doubt, no space to breathe. Nothing but pressure, heat, and the fact he wasn’t letting go now.
Stiles shuddered against him, full-body and uncontrollable. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling, and his mouth parted on a soft, broken moan, pulled straight from his throat like he didn’t know how to hold it in.
Derek’s hand tightened in Stiles’ hair, fingers threading through the strands in a clear claim. His hot breath brushed against Stiles’ skin as he whispered, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
Stiles’ mouth opened, starting another sarcastic remark meant to break the moment, to put distance between them. Derek didn’t let him get that far. His free hand came up, settling over Stiles’ lips.
“No. You’re done talking.”
Stiles’ pupils blew wide, swallowing the warm brown. Derek felt the tremor running through him, leaning back against the counter as if it were the only thing keeping him from tipping over.
But then, because this was Stiles, he smiled into Derek’s palm, nipping gently at his index finger. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to challenge.
Enough to say: make me.
Derek’s breath brushed the shell of Stiles’ ear. “You think you’re being funny?”
He felt the sharp catch of Stiles’ breath, body rigid yet pliant beneath his hold. When Derek pulled away, Stiles immediately gasped. “Maybe a little bi—”
The words never finished. Derek’s mouth found his throat, teeth sinking into the tender place where neck met shoulder, and Stiles broke into a helpless whimper.
“Better,” Derek murmured, soothing the bite with his tongue. He could taste salt and adrenaline, feel Stiles’ pulse pounding against his mouth. “But not good enough.”
Stiles tried again, that stubborn streak flaring. “You can’t make me shut up,” his voice wavering between defiance and want.
Derek slammed his palms on the counter on either side of Stiles, trapping him completely. The sound made Stiles jump, but Derek caught the heat in his gaze. His scent spiked with arousal, not fear.
“Can’t I?” Derek’s voice dropped to a snarl, and he crowded closer, watching Stiles’ resolve start to crack. He ground their cocks together, and Stiles’ head fell back with a desperate sound that went straight to Derek’s core. “That’s it,” he purred, a low thrill curling through his chest.
Stiles let out a shaky laugh, and Derek was done waiting. In one swift motion, he lifted Stiles off his feet and set him down hard on the counter. Stiles scrambled, clutching the edge for balance, sputtering, “What are you doing?!”
Derek tilted his head. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was low, teasing, but beneath it, something deeper than hunger stirred—something protective.
Shaking his head quickly, Stiles let words tumbling out in a rush. “What? No! We just—I just—what the fuck, dude?! You’re so hot! Are we… about to fuck right now?”
The kitchen light glinted off his teeth as the corner of Derek’s mouth lifted, something predatory flickering free. He shoved Stiles’ shirt up over his ribs and sank down, tongue tracing a hot path over one nipple.
Stiles strained into him, legs hooking tight, feet digging into his back as he cried out. Derek chuckled against his skin, teeth scraping gently as Stiles grasped at his shoulders.
The whiny sounds spilling from him, so unlike the usual Stiles, made him even harder. Every wild beat of his heart reminded him what his wolf wanted. What he wanted.
Take. Claim. Mine.
The mantra repeated in his mind as Derek eagerly followed the curve of Stiles’ body, lips and tongue tracing the line from hip to hip before he sank his teeth in. Stiles jerked under the touch, chest rising and falling in heaving pulls of air.
Derek’s hands slid down to hook behind Stiles’ knees, spreading him open before pushing them higher. The shift made the waistband of his jeans dig into his waist as Derek’s mouth dragged over the thin strip of fabric above his zipper.
Stiles’ head tipped back with a groan, jerking up as Derek deliberately avoided the spot he knew Stiles burned for more. He lingered there, cruel in his patience, letting the vibration of his growl sink through fabric and skin.
Squirming, Stiles bit at his lip as his eyes met Derek’s, frantic and pleading. He looked like he wanted to beg, but instead he bit down harder, his scent heavy with need.
Derek didn’t wait another second. He yanked at the waistband, and in one rough motion had Stiles’ jeans and boxers shoved down his thighs, leaving him bare and straining against the cool air. Derek’s fingers wrapped around him immediately, harsh grasp drawing a broken whine from Stiles as he thrust forward.
His lashes clumped wet, breath coming in short gasps. “Fuck, Derek, please!”
A dark satisfaction curled through Derek as Stiles writhed under him. “What did I say?” he gave a punishing squeeze that made Stiles’ whole body shiver. “I let you run your mouth earlier. That’s all the talking you get. From now on, you only make sounds for me.”
Trailing kisses down Stiles’ stomach, he circled the base of his cock and took a moment to drink him in. Stiles tried to push into Derek’s mouth, nails raking down, catching skin and leaving faint crescents with every frantic clutch.
His scent was intoxicating, all sex and sweat, pure want flooding Derek’s head. Small and lean beneath him, Stiles looked impossibly perfect, every line and curve so tempting Derek could hardly think.
It was impossible to resist burying his face in the hair around Stiles’ pretty cock, nostrils flaring as his lips and tongue traced the sensitive length, teasing and claiming in slow strokes.
Derek’s hand tightened around him, thumb tracing lazy patterns over the tip, making Stiles whimper. His heels dug into Derek’s back, trying to get him closer, but Derek shifted just enough to hold him down.
His tongue flicked over the underside, drawing out a broken moan. Derek’s eyes met his, dark and feral, as a vibrating hum rolled from his chest. “Such a greedy little thing,” he said, voice thick and possessive. “All for me.”
Then he took him down his throat, hollowing his cheeks, dragging his tongue along the crown. Stiles thrust up frantically, but Derek maintained control, setting the pace. He moved lower, swallowing around him until Stiles’ cock hit the back of his throat, the shock of it making him groan.
His body rocked forward, chasing relief that wasn’t there. The salty taste of precum spread across his tongue, and he swallowed it greedily, unable to do anything but immerse himself in Stiles’ heat.
Derek pulled back slowly, lips dragging over skin, then sank down again, steady this time, building a rhythm that had his mouth working in sync with the swirl of his tongue. Each pass drew another desperate sound, and the wolf in him prowled higher, savoring how easily Stiles gave in, how his body strained into Derek’s for more.
Refusing to let the pace break, Derek swallowed him deeper, making every gasp and whimper bend to his rhythm. One finger brushed lightly over Stiles’ entrance, prodding enough to make him shudder uncontrollably.
Stiles’ fingers clawed at the back of Derek’s head, tangling in his hair. His legs closed around Derek’s head, back lifting off the counter as if he could sink any deeper into him. He stuttered out a plea, pulling at the strands, and Derek answered with a low growl.
He sucked hard once more before tearing his mouth away. Stiles cried out, cock twitching against his stomach, right on the edge. Derek gave him nothing, only the cool bite of air replacing the heat of his mouth.
Derek took his wrists in his hand, pinning them to the counter. His voice came deep, rough with restraint. “I can’t fuck you here.”
For the first time, a flicker of hesitation ran through him. It wasn’t just the absurdity of the situation—something in him shifted, a sudden awareness of just how much he wanted Stiles, and how much that desire terrified him. He couldn’t just take him here. Not like this.
Stiles’ eyes went wide, a strangled noise bursting from him before it formed into words. “What the fuck, man? You can’t just—” his voice cracked. “You can’t get me all worked up and then say that.”
Derek’s teeth bared in warning. “Shut up,” he said, stepping back.
The absence of his weight made Stiles lurch forward, flailing like he could drag Derek back in by sheer will. “Oh, no, no, no. don’t you dare leave me like that,” he grabbed at Derek’s shirt, his belt, anything within reach.
Derek caught his wrist mid-swipe, steadying him with a rough jerk. “Sit still,” he warned. “I’ll fully fuck you later. Not here, I don’t keep lube in the cabinets.”
Stiles didn’t listen.
He fumbled at his shirt, tearing it off in a flurry of motion. Derek’s gaze raked over him, noting the pale skin flushed pink, the scattering of dark moles across his chest and stomach—moles Derek could already imagine tracing with his tongue.
His pants followed, flung across the kitchen in a clatter, and Derek lifted an unimpressed brow. Stiles didn’t seem to care. He was completely bare now, cock leaking steadily.
Every inch of Derek throbbed with the need to claim Stiles, to make it impossible for anyone else to touch him. Before Derek could rein himself in, Stiles turned, planting his palms flat on the counter, and shamelessly presented himself.
Derek couldn’t fight it. He didn’t want to. Instinct took over, and he let out a rough huff as he tore at his clothes and closed the distance. He cupped Stiles’ waist, lifting him until he was balanced on his toes, ass raised and open for him.
His fingers ran over the smooth, plump skin, pausing to trace a beauty mark on the side of Stiles’ left cheek. Settling in between Stiles’ thighs, Derek’s hardness pressed along him before he began to grind. Stiles wasn’t small, but Derek was bigger in every way, darker over pale skin, a weight Stiles could do nothing but take.
And he took it so fucking well, pressing his ass into Derek, thighs clinging tightly, moving with him until every stroke was perfectly aligned. The contrast between them made Derek’s wolf preen. Derek was solid and commanding, Stiles soft and willing beneath him.
His balls slapped harshly onto Stiles’ thighs as he set the pace. One hand wrapped around Stiles’ throat, fingers tight enough to make his breath catch. Derek’s other hand found Stiles’ nipple, teasing it with quick flicks until it hardened beneath his touch.
Stiles’ cock responded instantly, more precum dripping to the ground. His scent marked every inch of the kitchen now, sharp and heady, and Derek felt a satisfied growl vibrate from his chest.
He didn’t know when it began or how long it had been there, only that somewhere along the way he had always craved Stiles. It was sudden and undeniable, threading through every glance and touch.
Now the boy who never shut up, the one who spun his head in circles every time he opened his mouth, was trembling in his arms, giving only ragged moans instead of words.
Even when Stiles didn’t fully listen, when he pushed against Derek’s orders just to do things his own way, it didn’t matter. Having him like this was enough. More than enough.
The wolf in him needed to see Stiles, needed to look him in the eye while Derek made him come harder than he ever had before in his life.
Gripping Stiles’ hips, Derek turned him back around. He lifted one of Stiles’ legs, draping it over his waist so their cocks aligned in a perfect grind. Stiles arched instinctively, clutching his shoulders.
A snarl tore from him, every nerve alive at the sight and sensation of them locked together. Precum pooled and slid between their hips with every thrust, and Derek’s mouth watered at the thought of licking it all up, of sliding his tongue into Stiles’ mouth to let him taste himself.
Stiles’ gaze darkened when he glanced down at the friction between them. Then his lips parted again, and Derek braced for another smart remark.
But Stiles was always a surprise.
“Come on me. Oh god, I want you to mark me.”
Derek’s eyes flared red, fangs snapping down in possession. Stiles should have run the second Derek touched him—because now he wasn’t letting go. The thought tore free before he could stop it: “I’ll mark you and you’ll never be able to get away from me.”
Stiles nodded frantically, giving Derek every excuse to shove him back down to the counter. His hand closed around their cocks, too thick to fit fully in his hold. He pumped fast, ruthless, shivers racking his body with each stroke.
Every sound from Stiles tumbled out as desperate pleas. “Yes, fuck, I want it!” His fingers clawed at Derek’s back. “Come on me, Alpha, I need it so bad. Make me yours.” His hips moved in a helpless rhythm, chasing Derek’s fist like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
The sound of them sliding together was filthy, obscene, slick heat building between them until Derek thought he might drown in it. His jaw ached from clenching, the effort it took not to bite into Stiles’ throat, to claim him with fangs instead of come.
Stiles’ hand slid down to meet his, fingers threading with his in a touch both urgent and tender. Derek whimpered low in his throat, nuzzling his face into Stiles’ neck, tasting the heat and salt of him, feeling the shivers running through his body.
For now, he held back, sinking only his regular teeth into the spot he would eventually mark. He imagined that moment—when he could give himself over, not just in body but in everything he’d been holding back—and claim Stiles completely.
“Fuck, I’m gonna…” Stiles cried, hips slamming into Derek’s, clutching their cocks hard. Derek’s teeth slid from Stiles’ neck, leaning back to watch in awe.
A violent tremor ran through Stiles as he gasped. White burst from him, hot and wet, shooting upward to splatter across Derek’s chest and face. Derek flinched as it hit him, a groan rumbling from deep in his chest as his wolf stirred, taking Stiles’ release as a mark, a claim.
Stiles’ body convulsed with every pulse, trembling violently, tears spilling as his voice broke. “Derek, I need it… need your come.”
Derek’s own body tensed, chasing Stiles through the rhythm, groaning as heat crawled up his stomach. His balls drew up tight, and with Stiles finally sinking into the counter, sleepy and so eager for it, a howl tore from him, rough and instinctive, spilling out with the force of his release.
He came across Stiles’ stomach, each wave hotter and heavier than the last, shuddering through him again and again. His knees wobbled, then gave out entirely as he collapsed against Stiles’ chest.
Skin slick and burning beneath them both, he sagged with the last pulses, spent and completely drained. He held Stiles close, letting the warmth of his body steady him. Somewhere deep down, he realized that this had always been inevitable—no one else could ever take this place in his life.
And, of course, Stiles had to break the peace.
He blinked up at Derek, half-lidded, lips curled in a mischievous smirk. “Wow,” he sighed. “You really rocked my world.”
Derek let out a groan, resting his forehead against Stiles. “I was holding back,” he muttered, almost to himself, an edge of pride in his voice. “Not that it matters. Next time, I won’t.”
Stiles laughed, a high, breathy sound that made Derek’s chest tighten. “Oh, I’m so ready for that,” he circled his fist around Derek’s softening length. “You can shut me up on your cock anytime, Alpha.”
A rumble rolled through Derek’s chest as he tilted his head, eyes flaring red. “Apparently I can’t. You just… don’t stop talking.”
With a pout, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders. “Well, I didn’t talk as much as I wanted.”
His mouth looked so soft, so inviting, and Derek couldn't help closing the distance, tracing his tongue along Stiles’ lips. Stiles tried to deepen it, but Derek pulled back just enough to make him whine.
“Come on, we should shower,” he said, easing Stiles down from the counter. His legs were wobbly, so Derek practically dragged him to the bathroom.
He would’ve picked him up, but he liked watching Stiles stumble, still shaky from how hard he’d come. One hand stayed at the small of Stiles’ back, steadying him, the other smeared over the come covering Stiles stomach.
Stiles muttered the whole way down the hall, his complaints tangled with laughter. “You know, you could totally carry me like a gentleman. Sweep me off my feet. Ever heard of romance, Hale?”
Derek gave him a sidelong glance, unimpressed, but let a small smirk twitch at his lips. “Romance isn’t dragging your naked ass to the bathroom?”
“That’s debatable,” Stiles shot back, propping himself on the doorframe as Derek turned on the shower. A thin haze of steam rose in the air, catching the light around him. His grin was crooked and tired, but his eyes sparkled. “I mean, personally, I do think this was kind of hot.”
Before he could wind up another joke, Derek caught him by the arm and tugged him beneath the spray. The first rush of heat struck Stiles’ skin, chasing away sweat and slick, and his laugh broke into a gasp.
Derek boxed him against the tile, mouth grazing the line of his jaw. His palm followed the curve of Stiles’ spine, tracing the lingering shivers sparking through him.
“Still talking,” Derek muttered.
Stiles turned his head just enough to brush his lips across Derek’s cheek. “Yeah, but you don’t mind as much as you pretend, hornywolf.”
The growl Derek gave was more content than threatening. His hand slid up to Stiles’ throat, pressing lightly over the fresh mark blooming there, feeling the steady hammer of his pulse beneath his fingers.
He dropped slow, deliberate kisses to it, voice low and rough. “You drive me crazy. And I can’t get enough of you.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow in surprise. “So you really want a piece of this? The full Stilinski package, wrapped in ugly bows and enough sarcasm to make you want to kill me.”
Derek sighed, shaking his head, a warmth he hated to call fondness curling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s… not that bad of a package.”
Stiles let his head thunk lightly against the tile, grinning up at him. “Oh wow, you really are into me. I’ll be the best person you’ve ever dated, I swear.”
Derek huffed out a laugh, soft and real. “I don’t have a lot of experience to go off of.”
Stiles leaned in, water dripping down the slope of his nose, his grin turning wicked. “You sure fuck like you’ve got enough experience for the both of us.”
For a moment, his fingers traced over Stiles’ lips before speaking. “You haven’t even seen half of what I want to do to you.”
Before Stiles could fire back, Derek shoved him under the spray. Stiles squawked, hair plastered to his forehead, looking like a wet cat. “Asshole!” he yelled, flailing as water hit him in the eyes.
Derek laughed, loud and unrestrained, his hands grabbing Stiles’ shoulders to hold him back as he shook his head free, sending droplets flying.
Suddenly, Stiles yanked him forward, and Derek stumbled into his body, caught off guard by just how strong Stiles had become. They teetered, almost toppling out of the tub, clinging to each other as laughter spilled over both of them.
Derek’s reflexes kicked in, pinning them to the wall, and the sudden closeness sparked a heated collision of mouths—hungry and laughter-tinged—arms tangling as if neither would ever let go.
And really, Derek didn’t think he could let go of him. Not now, not ever.