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* * *
Dittany
Said to symbolize love, and to be an aphrodisiac, only the most ardent young lovers would risk the steep mountainsides and the deep gorges of Crete to gather bunches of these pink flowers to present as tokens to their lovers.
Dittany has a number of uses, from treating stomachaches and open wounds, to problems with menstruation. It is even said that the herb can enhance one’s ability to perform astral projection, separating the consciousness from the body. The herb is also useful in love potions, for divination, and contact with spirits, though care must be taken when using it in incense, as spirits have been known to materialize in the smoke.
Less well known are dittany’s properties as an etheric condenser. Dittany can be used to provide sufficient ether to allow for the construction of a physical body for spirits summoned via rites of evocation.
* * *
3 years ago
Stiles squinted at the setting sun, pulling Derek’s arms tighter around him. They were sitting on the beach, toes dug into the sand. The air was getting chilly, and the breeze was picking up.
“I love you, Derek,” Stiles said suddenly, unprompted.
He felt Derek stiffen behind him.
Stiles turned his head. “Does that freak you out?”
Derek relaxed, and squeezed Stiles. “No,” he said quickly. “You just don’t say that very much. You surprised me.”
Stiles blinked slowly a few times and then turned back towards the setting sun. “Well, I do,” he said, smiling. “And, I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to butter you up for tonight.”
Chuckling, Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple. “Today’s your birthday. Tonight is pretty much a done deal.”
Turning his head to kiss Derek, Stiles sighed. He had decided he wanted to go camping at the beach for his birthday instead of going back to Lydia’s lake house. He didn’t want to be surrounded by all of those ghosts for his first time. Ever, actually. He had decided a while ago that he pretty much never wanted to go back there ever again.
As he turned the rest of his body around towards Derek, Stiles remembered the few times Derek had mentioned camping with his family. He always got a fond look in his eye, along with the sadness that was always there whenever his family came up. Stiles used to go camping, too, when his mom was alive. He and his dad hadn’t really ever gone again…after. It was her thing, anyway. Her family had gone camping a lot, and Stiles had a vague memory of when he was really little and they had done a family reunion camping thing. Camping without out her just brought back too many memories.
So, he thought that for his birthday, and for his first time, he and Derek could go camping at the beach together. It would be good for them; they could reclaim it, turn it into something new. Camping could be what they decided it would be. Not that Stiles was thinking about any of that now. No, the only thing on his mind at the moment was Derek’s soft lips pressed against his, and the feel of Derek’s powerful body, rippling, warm, and solid beneath his fingers. He took a deep breath, breathing in Derek’s earthy musk of leather and something that always vaguely reminded Stiles of black pepper.
“You don’t actually want to have sex on the beach, do you?” Derek asked, a playful twinkle in his eye.
Nodding, Stiles dove back in, chasing Derek’s lips with his own. Derek indulged him for a bit, before gently pushing up against Stiles’ chest, lifting him off. Stiles gave him a confused, worried, puppy-dog face, which made Derek laugh.
“You don’t want to have sex on the beach,” Derek said. “Trust me. Sand and sex do not mix.”
Stiles smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing we have a tent all set up and ready to go then, isn’t it?”
“You want to go to the tent?” Derek asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.
Nodding eagerly, Stiles jumped to his feet and pulled Derek’s hands until he was standing, too. He turned and practically ran to the tent, keeping a firm grasp on Derek, just to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. They both dove into the tent, and Stiles quickly zipped the door flap shut before ripping off his shirt.
Derek laughed, but quickly grew serious as his eyes took in the flush on Stiles’ cheeks and chest. Crowding against Stiles, he placed his hand firmly but gently against the small of Stiles’ back and drew him even closer, searching his eyes, trying to burn the look of them at that moment into his memory. He pressed his lips against Stiles’, softly, tasting him, trying to memorize that part of the moment, too. He never wanted to forget. This was going to be Stiles’ first time, but in a way, it was the first time for Derek, too. Not just because Stiles was a man, but because Stiles actually loved him. Stiles was in love with him. And, he was in love with Stiles, too. The thought of it was almost enough to paralyze him with fear, and Stiles felt it – the barest hint of a moment when Derek had stopped kissing him, even though their lips were pressed together – and then started kissing him again.
It was a small thing, inconsequential, really. But, they had been through so much together, gotten past so much to get to this moment, that Stiles wasn’t going to ignore it. He couldn’t ignore it. Derek was too important to him, and as much as Stiles wanted what was happening, needed it, he wasn’t going to force Derek into doing anything he wasn’t ready to do. This time, it was Stiles’ hands on Derek, gently pushing him away.
“What?” asked Derek, confused.
“You stopped,” Stiles said.
“What?” Derek repeated, slightly exasperated but still confused.
“You stopped kissing me,” Stiles said, all playfulness gone from his eyes. “I felt it. You were kissing me, and then you weren’t. Are you okay with this?”
Derek blinked a few times and seemed to deflate. He grabbed Stiles’ hands, rubbing the tops of them with his thumbs. Keeping his eyes on the motion of his thumbs, he said, “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.” He looked up at Stiles now, eyes red.
“What?” Stiles asked, his turn to be confused. He settled into a more comfortable sitting position. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”
Derek shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the palm of one hand. He wasn’t always good about talking about the way that he felt, but it was Stiles’ birthday, and he loved him. He could do this. For them.
He took a deep breath.
“I’ve loved people, before, Stiles,” he began. “It’s never ended well.”
“Is this about Kate?” Stiles asked carefully, desperately trying to keep the note of alarm out of his voice, even though he was sure Derek could hear his heart racing.
Derek grimaced and squeezed Stiles’ hands. He wasn’t saying it right. This was why he didn’t say these things.
“No,” he answered. “This isn’t about Kate.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Mostly not, anyway.”
Stiles seemed to relax at the sound of Derek laughing. “What is it, then?” he asked, more at ease now.
Derek looked into his eyes again. “I love you so much,” he said slowly, “that it scares me sometimes. I lost everyone that I loved, once. In one night.” He shook his head, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I can’t go through that again.”
Stiles’ face softened and he wrapped his arms around Derek, laying his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek hugged him back.
“I wish I could tell you that you could have me forever,” he said, the words garbled because his face was smashed against the werewolf, “but I learned from my parents not to make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.” Pulling away from Derek, he gently cradled Derek’s face in his hands. “But, as long as I have any say in it, you’re stuck with me. And, if that means I have to watch your werewolf ass get old and wrinkly, then so be it!”
Derek tried, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “My old wrinkly werewolf ass?”
Stiles nodded and leaned forward to kiss him, pressing his weight against Derek until Derek was laying on the sleeping bags. He slid a hand under Derek’s shirt, peeling it off of him so that they could lay together, skin-to-skin contact, with nothing to separate them. Derek was hot beneath his fingers, his lips insistent now against Stiles.
Derek flipped them over so that Stiles was on his back. Stiles writhed beneath him as he kissed along Stiles’ jawline and down his neck. He licked a long stripe up Stiles’ chest, relishing Stiles’ involuntary shiver as his tongue passed over his nipple. He kissed the hollow of Stiles’ throat, kissed his way down until he was kissing the spot beneath his bellybutton, just above the waistband of his jeans. He glanced up to see how Stiles was taking all of this and saw that Stiles was looking at him in awe and anticipation. He smiled, waiting for Stiles to tentatively smile back at him before he continued. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he unbuttoned Stiles’ jeans and unzipped them. Stiles was already hard, his cock pressing a hard outline against his underwear. Derek passed his palm over it and smiled when Stiles hitched his breath.
Stiles lifted his hips when Derek pulled at his waistband, tugging Stiles underwear and jeans off at the same time. Stiles’ cock flopped up, smacking his belly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
The sent of it was intoxicating; Derek had to force his wolf back down as he gazed at Stiles’ throbbing member.
“Is it all right?” Stiles asked, his voiced taking on a slightly worried tone at Derek’s pause.
Instead of answering him, Derek smirked and gave it a long slow lick, his eyes never leaving Stiles’. Stiles’ pupils were blown wide at the sight of Derek’s tongue on his cock, a sight he had fantasized about more times than he could remember. None of the fantasies even came close to this. There was no way he could have imagined how good having Derek’s tongue on him would feel. When Derek pursed his lips and kissed the glistening drop off of the head, Stiles threw his head back on the pillow, his reality shattering into a million pieces and reforming into a magical world in which Derek Hale was willing and eager to give him blow jobs. Something clicked, and he realized that he wasn’t just visiting there. That was where he lived, now.
The next thing he knew, the warmth of Derek’s mouth was enveloping the head of his cock and moving down to include the shaft. His brain fizzled out and there were no more thoughts, no more realizations, as he lost himself to the feel of it.
Because of his sense of smell, Derek knew exactly what Stiles was going to taste like before he actually tasted him. What he didn’t know was how much he was going to like it. When the slick saltiness hit his tongue, it was everything he could do to keep from wolfing out. He was eager, but he was nervous. He had never done this before, and if anyone asked he would totally deny having watched a huge amount of gay porn over the last few weeks for “research.” Even though he had. Watched gay porn, that is. ‘Cuz he knew this day was coming, and even though he was totally down for sucking Stiles’ cock, it was kind of new territory for him.
Werewolf healing aside, he knew it would be a mistake to take all of Stiles in at once. So, he took it slow, sucking down on Stiles until the head of his cock hit the back of his throat, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. He let the shaft slip out, then went down on him again, developing an easy rhythm bobbing his head up and down on Stiles’ cock. He could tell by the squirming that he was doing something right, which was good, because he was enjoying the experience at least as much as Stiles was, and he hoped to be spending a good portion of rest of his life sucking Stiles’ dick. Letting Stiles slide out of his mouth with a filthy pop, he decided to pay some attention to Stiles’ balls. A lick up the soft scrotum sent a shiver through Stiles’ body, so he gave them another experimental lick, which caused Stiles to shiver again. He filed the information away for later use, and licked up Stiles shaft and then sucked him down again.
After a few head bobs, he decided he was comfortable enough to try more. Opening his throat, he slowly took in as much of Stiles as he could. His eyes started to water, but he was determined, and he really wanted to do this, so he continued on. Eventually, he had taken Stiles in all the way to the root, then quickly lifted his head off as he gasped for air.
“Did you just deep throat me?” Stiles croaked out in disbelief.
Derek smiled and nodded, stroking Stiles’ cock a few times with his hand. “Did you like it?”
Stiles nodded enthusiastically, so Derek wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and went down to try it again. It was easier the second time, as well as the third, and pretty soon, Derek was deep throating Stiles with every three or four downward bobs.
Stiles hands were buried in Derek’s soft black hair as he writhed and squirmed. “Derek,” he gasped out in warning. “I’m gonna come. I gonna come!”
All this did was cause Derek to bob even faster. He was going to bring Stiles over the edge if it was the last thing he did.
“Derek, I’m serious,” Stiles croaked out. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna!”
Then, Stiles was bucking beneath him like a wild bull and it was everything Derek could do to stay on. Suddenly, cum was flooding into his mouth, musky and thick and all Stiles. There was lot more of it than he had been expecting, especially given Stiles penchant for masturbating almost every day, sometimes twice, but he somehow managed to swallow it all down. He surged up to Stiles face, kissing him full on the lips, probing with his tongue so Stiles could taste how delicious he was.
Stiles kissed him back, almost feverish in his afterglow, and somehow Derek found himself on his back.
“It’s time for the big bad wolf to get a taste of his own medicine,” Stiles whispered huskily into his ear, before making his way down to Derek’s pants and popping the button.
* * *
Hawthorne
Cultivating hawthorne on your property will ensure that evil spirits will be unable to enter. It will also repel ghosts, lightning, and damage from storms. Beyond these protective properties, hawthorne has been known to attract spirits of a benevolent nature. Those seeking a safe yet stimulating encounter with the beings who inhabit the spirit realm would be wise to keep hawthorne on hand.
* * *
Now
Deaton listened patiently as Stiles and Kaede told him about the things they had seen and felt at the Pacifica Club national office.
“Both of you keep saying it felt old,” Deaton said, confused. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Stiles and Kaede looked at each other, unsure of how to answer the question.
“It’s just a feeling, you know?” Stiles said. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“How old are we talking about, here? A hundred years? Two-hundred years?” Deaton pressed.
“Way older than that,” Stiles said, eyes wide as he shook his head.
“Millennia,” Kaede replied. “I have the sense that this being does not even comprehend time on the same scale that we do. It is older than the kamis.”
Deaton’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. You brought the mirror?”
“Yes,” Stiles said, pulling his jade mirror from his pocket.
“I know you’ve already spoken to the leaders in the Clan,” Deaton said, “but maybe they’ve found something by now.”
Stiles nodded and focused on his mirror. The jade began to glow, and in a short time they all heard Lydia’s voice.
“Stiles?” she said. “I’m here with the Kaori and Mori.”
“Hi, Stiles,” Mori said, somehow sounding both happy and somber at the same time.
“Hi, Mori. Hi, Lydia. Hello, Mrs. Tanaka,” Stiles said, greeting each of them in turn. “I have Deaton here with me, and Derek, Kaede, Allison, and Scott. Have you guys figured out anything?”
“We have spent the last twenty-four hours contacting the other Night Flower families,” Kaori Tanaka answered. “So far, the only thing we can agree on is that there are some similarities between this event and our encounters with ‘Rage of the Seas’. We have called a meeting of the clan elders in three days time. On behalf of the Clan, I would like to extend an invitation to any representatives of the Druid Order, so that we might work on a solution to this problem, together.”
Deaton nodded. “I’m meeting with my superiors tomorrow,” he said, glancing up at the others. Scott seemed surprised, but didn’t say anything. “Though I must admit,” Deaton continued, “this seems to be a bit beyond the scope of what we’re typically able to handle.”
“As it is for us,” Kaori admitted. “The Clan is older than the Druid Order, but not by much. Our areas of expertise have much in common. It is our hope that by comparing those details of history that we do not currently share, that we might find some answers.”
“Agreed,” Deaton said.
“May the shadows keep you,” Kaori said.
“May the shadows keep you,” Deaton replied.
The mirror went dark, and Scott blurted out, “Druid Order?”
Deaton smiled indulgently. “You didn’t think we each acted on our own, did you?”
Scott closed his mouth and looked lost in thought.
“You didn’t tell us you were meeting with anyone,” Allison said, almost accusingly.
“It didn’t come up,” Deaton replied. “But, I suppose I should let you know that my sister and I are heading to San Francisco tomorrow so that we can discuss our current situation with some of the other emissaries. While I’m gone, I think it would be wise if the five of you maintained your patrols of the preserve.”
“I should talk to my dad,” Allison said.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Deaton replied.
Allison nodded, then moved towards the door. Not knowing what else to do, the others exchanged a few glances, looked briefly at Deaton, then followed her.
Scott went with Allison to talk to Chris, and Kaede went with Stiles and Derek to the Hale house.
“Time to pick up the puppies,” Stiles said, sounding almost cheerful.
Derek shook his head, smirking. “You know they hate it when you call them that.”
“Yup!” Stiles replied, a mischievous smile on his face.
Erica was out the door before any of them had even gotten out of the car. “What did Deaton say?” she demanded.
“He doesn’t know anything, yet,” Derek said.
Boyd rolled his eyes behind her.
“He’s meeting with some other Druids tomorrow,” Derek said. “And, the Night Flowers are looking into it as well.”
Isaac poked his head out the door. “What are we supposed to do?”
“We keep patrolling the woods,” Derek answered. “Make sure no one else goes missing.”
Isaac’s head disappeared back into the house. Derek heard the chirp of a video game being un-paused and resuming, background music blaring and guns blasting. He sighed.
“Erica, Boyd, go with Kaede,” Derek said. “Come back when it gets dark. Isaac, Stiles and I will take the next shift.”
Erica’s grin was almost feral as she dashed passed them and into the trees. Boyd rushed passed them as well, almost as if he thought he was about to lose a race that he only just realized he was taking part in. No one saw Kaede leave, but he was nevertheless nowhere to be seen.
“Stay together,” Derek said, in a normal tone of voice, knowing perfectly well that all three could hear him. “Watch out for each other.”
* * *
Elder
Sacred to the Mother Goddess, elder branches hung over the doorways and windows will remove evil from the home. Elder growing near the home will bring prosperity, and elder berries carried on the person will protect from negativity. As beneficial as it is to always have elder around, care must be taken when handling it, as it is extremely unlucky to burn the wood of the elder. If even the smallest of shavings were to pass through the flame of a candle, all of the previous work of the day could be undone, rending potions useless and removing the effects of spells and wards.
* * *
Derek finished pounding in the last of the tent spikes as Stiles finished making a circle of mountain ash and spider lily around the lady slipper orchid they found blooming in a small dark glen, deep in the preserve. The last thing they needed was for a careless werewolf or Night Flower to trample it, bringing about an apocalyptic event such as the world had not seen since the extinction of the dinosaurs. He placed a large glass specimen dome over it to prevent Danny, Allison, or himself from doing that as well, then took a step back to admire his handiwork.
Deaton’s trip to Japan had been…enlightening.
The Night Flowers had delved deeply into their records. Help was summoned, and Night Flowers from all over the world abandoned their regular work of keeping the human population safe, in order to assist in the effort. Scrolls were read that had not seen the light of day in over a thousand years. The oldest members of the clan were asked to scour their memories. Mystics were consulted.
Deaton had brought with him all of the records the druids had been able to amass, several hard drives worth of data. Even now, the druids were pouring over their tomes, looking for any clue that could help them.
In the end, it was a children’s story that led them to the truth. An ancient fable, all but forgotten, of giant turtles that swam the seas, with islands on their backs. Like other turtles of the sea, these turtles laid their eggs on land. One day, as a clutch of these giant turtles was hatching, there was a great storm, and one of the baby turtles was picked up by the wind and blown into the forest. As it fell, it hit its head, but because it was a creature of magic, it did not die; it merely fell into a deep sleep.
As the years went by, it was covered by leaves and dirt. Plants grew over it, and a sapling’s root pierced its heart. Still, the turtle did not die. It became one with the tree, and as the tree grew, so did the turtle, forcing the earth upwards to form a mighty mountain with a great tree on top. One day, lightning struck the tree. The tree died, but the turtle survived. The death of the tree was a great loss to the turtle, causing it to roll from one side to the other, sending sheets of rock crashing into valleys below, an earthquake that toppled houses and trees, and moved rivers from their courses.
But still, the turtle did not wake. Eventually, the turtle’s weight, and the weight of the mountain on top of it, pushed the turtle deep into the earth, into the rock that was the foundation of the world. And, as its ancient magic seeped up towards the sky, the forest grew thick and strong. But, from time to time, the turtle would turn in its sleep, and the earth would rumble, toppling trees and houses, and moving rivers from their course.
Now, the turtle is huge, its shell the forest floor, its breath the forest’s life. The turtle dreams. Once it dreamt of swimming the oceans; the memories of its ancestors. But now, it dreams of trees. Of ferns and moss. Of forest streams running over smooth stones. Of the first tree that pierced its heart. And, every time it remembers, the turtle rolls, shaking the forest floor.
An elderly Night Flower, one of their archivists, presented the story to the mystics. After much debate and meditation, they suggested that the story held truth within it, that the forests of the world were embodied by ancient spirits, much like everything has a kami. These are the kami of the forests, not that they belong to the forest, though there are those as well. These are the kami of the forests themselves, so ancient and huge as to transcend the boundaries of the spirit and physical worlds. So long as they slumber, there is peace. Should one awaken, life as they knew it, would be lost.
“So what does this have to do with guarding a flower?” asked Stiles when Deaton finished telling them the story, confusion etched clearly on his face.
“When one of these forest spirits dreams, the dream will sometimes manifest in the form of a flower,” Deaton explained. “If the flower does not live out its natural lifespan, there is a chance that the spirit will wake. It would be the equivalent of the super volcano underneath Yellowstone National Park erupting, only...bigger.”
“Wait, so the turtles are real?” asked Scott.
“No,” Deaton said, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. “The story has truth in it, but is not the truth itself. These spirits are the embodiment of the forests; they exist because the forests exist, not because a magic turtle hit its head and fell asleep.”
“That seems like a pretty big consequence for disturbing a flower,” Derek said. “Why hasn’t this happened before? Why aren’t we having these world ending events all the time? You’d think these flowers would get eaten by deer, or stepped on by bears. Every forest has one of these spirits, right?”
“How do you define a forest?” Deaton asked, a cryptic smile on his face. “The way I understand it, Beacon Hills Preserve has a spirit, what we know as a kami. The Olympic National Forest has a kami. But, from what the Night Flowers have been able to determine, these beings are much larger than that. Think the Amazon, think the Congo. What we’re talking about here is the spirit of the Pacific Northwest. In this entire territory, there is only one flower, and it just so happens that this time, it’s blooming in Beacon Hills.”
“Wonderful,” Allison said, her face tight.
“Normally, the mere fact of what it is is enough to protect it,” Deaton continued. “Animals will instinctively avoid the area, trees won’t fall there while the flower is in bloom.”
“If it’s already protected, why do we have to protect it?” Stiles pressed.
“It’s only protected from natural forces,” Deaton explained. “But, all of this activity in the preserve isn’t natural. Bill Welles is up to something. He may not know about the flower, but we can’t take the chance that he does.”
“So, we must protect the flower,” Kaede concluded, “while we try to find out what this man is doing and how we can stop him.”
Stiles frowned and shook his head as he remembered the conversation, marveling at how such a small flower could potentially be the cause of so much trouble. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Flower’s safe?” asked Derek.
Stiles nodded. “Yup. All set with the tent?”
“Mm-hmm,” Derek said, circling Stiles with his arms and resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s pretty,” he said, looking down at the flower.
Stiles sighed. “You’d think I’d eventually get used to the weird.” He frowned and tilted his head, thinking. “No. Not used to it. All of this is still freaking weird.”
Derek smiled and kissed his neck. “Wanna get in the tent and do something to take your mind off it?”
Stiles spun around and put his arms around Derek’s neck. He moved his head forward so that their noses were touching. “Everyone else is gonna show up soon,” he said. “What if they catch us?”
“We’ll just have to be quick,” Derek said with a smirk, taking a step back and pulling Stiles with him.
Stiles leaned forward, capturing Derek’s mouth with his own, sucking softly on his lips.
“What’s got you all worked up, huh?” Stiles teased, burying his fingers in the soft hair behind Derek’s ears. “Is it ‘cuz the full moon’s almost here?”
Derek took another step back, then pulled Stiles toward him in order to kiss him again, only this time there was more heat behind it. More need. “I always want you,” he said. “You have no idea how much I’m always holding it back. I need to feel you inside of me.”
Stiles laughed. “You act like we never have sex. We have sex all the time! What’s gotten into you?”
Instead of answering, Derek kissed him again, and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ torso, lifting him up and carrying him to the tent.
They couldn’t get into the tent fast enough. Their movements were awkward and uncoordinated inside of the small space, but Derek had their clothes off in no time.
“Don’t you wish we had those tents like in Harry Potter?” Stiles asked. “Where it’s like a whole…”
Derek cut him off with a kiss, pulling Stiles down on top of him as he lay on the sleeping bag. Stiles felt Derek’s hard cock pressed against his groin and immediately started getting hard himself. With his hands firmly gripping Stiles’ ass, Derek pressed their cocks together, lifting his hips and grinding upwards.
“You’re a filthy, filthy animal,” Stiles whispered, lowering his head to kiss Derek as he relished the feeling of their throbbing members sliding alongside each other, already slick with Derek’s pre-cum.
Derek pulled Stiles’ head down and licked his earlobe. “Put it in me,” he whispered.
“Now?” Stiles asked, finding this sex-crazed version of Derek slightly hilarious.
“Now,” Derek repeated.
Stiles reached down with his hand to line himself up, and thrust into Derek, burying himself in Derek’s heat. Rather than cry out, as was Derek’s wont, he let out a soft, whimpering sigh. It almost broke Stiles’ heart. He thrust in and out as Derek writhed beneath him, eventually pulling Stiles’ head down so they could kiss while they fucked.
Soon, Stiles’ head was spinning. They had done all kind of things during sex, experimented with different positions, fast sex, long, slow, teasingly torturous sex, but this was something new. He could sense Derek’s need. He was like someone who had only ever heard about of water, who had been thirsty for their whole lives, and suddenly finding themselves confronted by a cool mountain spring. And, Stiles was the spring.
It was like orgasm wasn’t even the point. Derek just needed sex. So, Stiles slowed it down. Their lips never parted, but Stiles caressed Derek’s ears, traced his fingers up and down Derek’s sides, all the while thrusting long, slow, languorous strokes into him as Derek hummed with contented happiness.
Suddenly, he realized Derek was no longer kissing him. He opened his eyes to see Derek’s eyelids fluttering as tiny tremors wracked his body. He looked down and saw Derek’s fat cock spurting out thick ropes of cum onto his stomach as the tiny, halting puffs of his breath puffed graced Stiles’ cheek.
Stiles was about to pull out when he felt Derek’s hand on his ass, preventing him from doing so. Then, Derek’s other hand was behind Stiles’ head and they were kissing again, and he could tell from the way Derek was moving beneath him that he wanted more. Derek wasn’t typically one to have multiple orgasms, though they happened on occasion, but Stiles was certainly willing to oblige.
So, Stiles continued his ministrations, not sure of how much longer he was going to last, but he was going to do his best. Derek just felt so good, so hot and tight and slick around his cock that it usually didn’t take long for him to come. True, he had built up his stamina over the years, learned how to hold back so they could fuck longer, but this was something else. His brain was going to that fuzzy place again, where all the world and everything in it was his cock inside of Derek, and the delicious sensations coursing through his body. He had no idea how long they had been going at it, but he had marveled at the sight of Derek’s orgasm at least two more times before he felt his own coming. His movements became jittery, and Derek was kissing him hard and insistent because he knew what was about to happen. One thrust, two, and Stiles was almost blinded by the explosive intensity of sensation. His cock was pulsing inside of Derek, pumping everything he was into this man that was everything to him. He felt like he could weep, but instead, he collapsed bonelessly on top of Derek, who was peppering his face with kisses.
Shockingly, inconceivably, he was still hard inside of Derek, and after about a minute of rest, Derek was wiggling beneath him, ready for more. And surprisingly, Stiles was up for it.
They made love through the night, lost in a haze of ecstasy, and not even Derek’s werewolf hearing clued them into the fact that the others had arrived at some point and were making camp around them. They didn’t hear Scott’s or Erica’s catcalls, Isaac yelling at them to get a room, nor did they hear when the camp grew quiet except for the sounds of lips against lips, bodies against bodies, moans, groans, and orgasms. They didn’t notice when at some time during the night, driven to the point of exhaustion, they had fallen asleep.
Stiles cracked one eye open to the daylight, somehow having fallen asleep on top of, and still inside of, Derek. He smirked to himself at the soft contented smile on Derek’s face and realized that what happened last night should have been impossible. He would be eternally grateful for it, make no mistake, but if the aches and pains throughout his body, the soreness in his groin area in particular, were any indication, he had almost sexed himself to death.
He sneered at the mess of drying cum between them, then looked up at Derek’s serene face.
“Hey!” he said, smacking Derek’s meaty triceps. “Time to wake up, you sex maniac.”
Derek slowly blinked his eyes open, smiling widely when Stiles’ face came into focus. He lifted his head, kissing Stiles like he wanted to start stuff again until Stiles pushed him away.
“Dude!” Stiles exclaimed. “We had sex all night! I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had.”
Derek scrunched up his shoulders and giggled like a little kid who had almost gotten caught doing something naughty. “Do you think anyone noticed?”
Stiles eyes went wide and he turned to unzip the door to the tent. They both looked out and saw three other tents in various places around the glen. Derek sniffed and his eyes widened in surprise.
“I know I’m probably imagining it, and most of it is probably us, but does it smell like sex out there?” Stiles asked.
“It definitely smells like sex out there,” Derek replied, nodding gravely.