Chapter 13

Derek leaves him at the clinic, slips out while Stiles is talking to Scott, and it's not until Stiles hears the door latch that he realizes.

So he runs. Chases Derek down the street with one hand under his hoody, feeling slow and unbalanced. "I didn't know," he says, out of breath already but knowing Derek will hear, even as he disappears around the corner. "How could I, when you didn't tell me?" Stiles rounds the corner, but Derek's gone, so he slumps down on the sidewalk, back pressed against the brick wall of the coffee shop, and he drops his head into his hands to hide his tears.

"Come on," Scott says when he finds him. "I'll take you there."

Scott follows him into the loft, even though Stiles wants Derek alone right now. How was he supposed to know—Derek never said anything, and that day, the day Stiles came to Derek, scared and with no other option, Derek kept saying things like, 'no strings' and 'just this once'.

He was firm about it. Spelled it out, in letters. Stiles understood, and how was he expected to know otherwise?

So he's pissed, and when he sees Derek standing at the window, looking out, ignoring the fact that Scott and Stiles have entered, it makes him crazy.

He crosses the room, grabs Derek by the shoulder and pulls him around. His mouth is open, he's about to speak, to tell Derek he needs to use his words, to tell him everything, because he's sick and fucking tired of people holding shit back. But Derek's eyes are red. Not Alpha red. They're red-rimmed, wet. There's salt, shimmering on his eyelashes.

"He's grieving for you already, you know."

Stiles' head snaps around.

Peter's sitting on the stairs, elbows on the step at his back, legs stretched out in front. "For the record, I'm with you, Stiles. Any child is a gift, but this one... She's extra special. Too special to lose, at any cost." He pulls his legs up, rises to his feet and approaches. "Look at you. You're positively glowing."

Peter turns away, heads for the door, but he stops before he passes Scott. "You know what Derek did to save Cora, don't you?"

Scott nods. His face is hard, cold. "Yeah. I know."

Peter smiles. "It would give Stiles a chance, at least. But I understand if you don't want to give up what you have. The power, it's heady. Intoxicating. Very difficult to give up." He glances back at Derek. "Derek did it. I was pleasantly surprised."

They're all silent as Peter leaves.

"You know I'll do it," Scott says after, Stiles guesses, enough time has passed that Peter is out of earshot. "I don't care about power. About any of that stuff."

"No, Scott," Stiles says. "You care about the pack. It needs an Alpha."

"It'll have one," Scott says as he crosses the room. "The baby, right? And what if... What if me giving up my Alpha...ness is enough of a sacrifice. Maybe they'll be satisfied with that. Maybe that's what they wanted in the first place. Derek's, but he gave it away to someone else. They should take mine, right? It's gotta be just as good."

"None of this helps," Derek whispers. "It probably won't be enough, you could give it up and Stiles could die anyway. And they want my sacrifice, no one else's. We won't know until we find them and ask."

"The right questions, though." Stiles slides his hand down Derek's shoulder and links his fingers into Derek's. "We might only have one chance. We don't even know where to look."

"They're already here, Deaton said," Scott says. "Have they been here all the time? You said they hung out in the woods, right? Should we maybe be looking there?"

Derek suddenly tugs Stiles toward the table. There's an open book laid out there, and he runs his finger down a page. "There. They can take human form. Pretend to be normal, insinuate themselves into your life."

"Oh my god," Stiles breathes. He flicks his eyes up to Scott. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Scott's eyes widen, and his jaw drops. "Yeah. Holy crap, yeah. Why didn't we think of it before?"

"They get into your life," Stiles says, voice rising in pitch as the excitement of discovery takes hold. "It's obviously—"

"Dana," Scott says.

Stiles blinks. "What? No. Are you crazy?" He leans over the table—not a mean feat with his belly in the way—and raps on Scott's forehead with his knuckles. "Hello? Grimm? It's obviously Grimm. The name alone should have tipped us off, but he knew from the beginning that I was pregnant. I told you he was evil."

"The Sidhe aren't evil," Derek says. "Just kind of... Morally ambiguous."

"Whatever." Stiles closes the book and pushes away from the table. "He's our guy. He knocked me up to get a born Alpha for some nefarious purpose. He's an asshole."

"I knocked you up," Derek whispers, pressing close to Stiles' back, wrapping his arms around, laying his palms over Stiles' rounded stomach. "He might have made it possible, but it was me who—"

"And that's my cue to get the hell out of here," Scott says, backing away.

The door is barely closed behind him before Derek continues. "I remember how it felt," he whispers. "Being tied to you, knowing that you were full of me. And it felt so right, Stiles. But I should never have touched you in the first place. I had no right to take advantage of your fear, but it was the only chance I'd ever have."

"Why didn't you say something?" Stiles puts his hands over Derek's, linking their fingers together. "I thought you were only here for the baby."

"She just made it impossible to stay away from you," Derek whispers, and he presses his lips to the back of Stiles' neck. "Do you remember what it was like, Stiles? Did you feel it then? How right it was?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Not then. After, though. When you wouldn't let me leave. That's when I knew I never wanted it to end."

Derek lets out a moan, and he turns Stiles around and then presses him back against the table as his lips come down on Stiles' mouth. "Yeah," he breathes. "I couldn't let you leave. Not until I'd had everything, every bit of you I could get. Because I thought it was the last time. The only time. And I couldn't bear the thought of it."

.

Derek was still inside him when Stiles woke. "How long's it been? " he asked, arching his back in a stretch. Derek's cock slipped out of him, slick and messy, and he groaned at the sudden ache it left behind.

Derek slid his hand up over Stiles' chest, pulling him back against him. "A little under an hour. You snore."

It was worryingly comfortable pressed against Derek's chest. "I guess I should go," Stiles said. The sky outside the window was growing darker.

"Not yet," Derek said, very quietly. He put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, tipped him onto his stomach, and rolled over him.

Stiles could see Derek from the corner of his eye. "What are you doing?" he asked. He'd figured Derek would want him to leave as soon as possible, as soon as the knot was gone and they were no longer locked together, but Derek was looking down at Stiles as though he wanted to start all over again.

"Shh," Derek said, and lifted one hand off the mattress. It came down again between Stiles' shoulder blades, palm sliding down his spine and settling in the small of his back. Then Derek followed it, crawling backward on his knees, dropping kisses onto each of Stiles' vertebra as he went.

It was a slow progression. Derek would stop, press his lips to Stiles' spine, inhale, and blow the breath out slow. Then he would move further and do it again.

"Won't Isaac and Cora be back soon?" Stiles asked, not wanting to be caught like this, yet reluctant to move. Derek's touch made him feel warm, it made him feel wanted, and he didn't want that to end.

"Texted Cora," Derek said between kisses. "Told her to take Isaac for something to eat. He'll love it."

"Why?"

"I'm not finished," Derek said, and then he dropped his last kiss right above Stiles' tailbone. He breathed in through his nose—Stiles could hear the difference—and out through open lips. His breath washed over Stiles' ass and made him shiver. "Cold?" Derek asked.

"No," Stiles said, his own breath coming quicker. His cock started to harden beneath him, and he shifted to get comfortable.

Derek pressed his hands to Stiles' ass, spreading him open with his thumbs. He blew against Stiles' hole, and it soothed the the heat of well used flesh. "Derek?" Stiles asked, the pitch of his voice just a little too high. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up." Derek dipped his tongue into the crease, gave a long, slow lick with the flat of it over Stiles' hole.

"With your tongue?" It went another octave higher.

"Yeah." Another lick as Derek washed away lube, his own come, other possibilities Stiles didn't want to acknowledge.

"Oh my god." Stiles pulled his elbows up under him, spread his legs a little wider. Derek hummed and settled between them. "Why?" Stiles asked. "Don't get me wrong, it feels fucking amazing, but isn't it kind of gross?"

It took Derek a good few licks to pull away and speak. "I want to." He buried his face between Stiles' cheeks and pushed his tongue inside, opening him up again. He pulled back, pressed his lips against Stiles' hole and sucked.

"Fucking... Oh fuck," Stiles gasped. His body jerked at the sensation, his cock rubbed against the sheet, and it felt so good Stiles moved his hips, looking for more. "Derek, oh my god, let me up, I need—"

The next instant, Stiles was on his elbows and knees, dragged up by Derek's strong hands, and the very next, Derek's tongue was in his ass again, pressing in, scooping out, sucking come out of Stiles' body. Stiles wrapped his hand around his cock, started stroking. "I need to come," he said, "because holy fuck, Derek..."

The groan Derek let out vibrated throughout Stiles' body. "Wait for me," he said as he lifted himself, moving up and over Stiles' back. Then his cock was pressing against Stiles' hole again, pushing in.

Stiles stiffened. "Are you crazy? We're gonna get stuck—"

"Not this time," Derek said, and he held Stiles' hips and pushed all the way inside.

"Oh, god." Stiles hung his head, lacking the give-a-crap to tell Derek to stop. He didn't want him to stop. It felt too good. "You're gonna mess me up again," he whispered as Derek started to move, long slow thrusts in and out.

"Then I'll clean you again," Derek said. He let out a soft, quiet moan and slowed his thrusts even further. "You took so much," he breathed, sliding the pad of his thumb around Stiles' tingling rim where his cock slid in and out. It felt squeaky-slick, and Stiles just knew it was because every time Derek pushed into him, come leaked out around the edges. "You took it all," Derek said. "All of my cock, all of my come, like you were made for me to fuck you." He pulled back, until only the tip of his dick was inside Stiles, pushed his thumb in in its place, right to the knuckle, fingers splayed over Stiles' cheek.

Then he drove his cock in to the hilt.

Stiles arched his back and gasped. There was more stretch, more of that full feeling, and the dull aching pain that made him wonder if his asshole wasn't black and blue by now. It still wasn't something he wanted to end. He never thought it would be like that, so intense, so raw, but so perfect. He could handle this, provided... "If we get stuck again," he said, sucking in air between the words. "I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Derek started rubbing his other thumb around Stiles' rim, spreading the fluid that was leaking out. "We won't," he said. He slid out halfway, then worked his other thumb into Stiles before thrusting home again.

"Holy shit," Stiles whimpered, stretched to his limit, but he fixed every burn, every ache in his memory. He had to, because every little thing Derek did to him made him crave more, and he'd need those memories when he left here.

Derek groaned and pulled his dick out, leaving Stiles with two thumbs in his ass and feeling like he was being held open. "There is so much of my come in you," Derek said, then his mouth was there again, tongue scooping up all the mess that had been pushed out by his dick, licking inside him, sucking it away. "It's so good watching you take it, watching it leak out of you." He pulled back, then his thumbs were gone, and what felt like two fingers slid inside, pressing down.

Stiles let out a gasping moan and pushed back. "God. Derek, yeah, please." He let go of his own cock and dropped his hand back to the mattress for leverage as he sought more pressure on his prostate.

"Want more?" Derek asked. "Want me to make you come?"

"Yes, fuck yes." Stiles fell onto his elbows, unable to hold himself up any longer. "Right there, right fucking there."

Derek put more pressure on his fingers, but it wasn't until a second later that Stiles realized he was pushing his cock back in. Stiles was full of cock, pressing down on Derek's fingers inside him, and there was no way he could think anymore. His entire body became a mass of constantly sparking pleasure that came in waves driven by Derek's rhythmic thrust and pull.

The come that leaked out of him dribbled down his perineum and onto his balls. He was a mess, slick with sweat and filthy with come, shameless and begging. Derek could have knotted him again and he wouldn't have cared. "Make me come," he whispered, his throat too hoarse to speak out loud. "Please."

Derek slowed his pace, pulled out, leaving his fingers inside Stiles' ass, leaving the head of his cock inside. He was still for just a moment.

It was almost over. Stiles could feel his orgasm balanced on the edge, thrumming through every part of him. He didn't want this to be the end, he didn't want this to be the only time he felt Derek's hands on him, Derek's voice in his ear. "No," he whispered, as he felt Derek tense like an animal about to spring.

Derek thrust in, hard.

Untouched, Stiles came, his vision going white, his mind so consumed with the explosion of pleasure inside him that it was wiped clean for long moments. Then slowly he became aware of his surroundings, of Derek, one hand on each of his hips, fingers pressing bruises into Stiles' skin, the rhythmic pulse inside as he came without the knot.