#forced shift

Stiles has never failed to be impressed by just how much Derek’s desire fights with the magic that is supposed to stop them from breaking the treaty and consummating their relationship early. The Moon’s presence—far more than usual as it seems to cover half the sky tonight—is lending fervor to Derek’s usual enthusiasm. Not that Stiles isn’t damn enthusiastic, too.

They are month or two away from the end of the two-winter wait-period the High Coven set on their engagement. The delay is absurd and inexplicable, even for a body that is known for its bizarre rulings. But, even the most arcane amongst the Council realize that keeping a ‘Wolf away from his Marked Mate on the Full Moon is tantamount to torture. Derek and Stiles are allowed time alone, truly alone, one night a month. They never waste it, but tonight… Tonight there is something more than the usual needwantlust in their not-sex. They’ve been through a Wolf Moon and a Super Moon before, but the fact that they are occurring together has even Stiles’ young magic, and the faint half-threads of their politically impeded Bond, buzzing.

Despite the fact that the magical limits they’re under have them soft in their pants, they’re rocking and rubbing and Derek is, Stiles realizes as his sweats get pulled down for the third time in ten minutes, getting closer and closer to possibly breaking one of the absurdly specific list of intimate dos and don’ts they have memorized.

Stiles licks at Derek’s lips and sits up a little, a bead of sweat running down his back and close to where Derek’s wayward finger is.

“Stop.”

Derek stills.

Stiles hates that he has to be the voice of reason in this: He’s not the cautious one between them, not the one who listens in classes about laws and traditions. He never colored in between the lines as a kid, either. While he’s glad for the few hours they get to be together each month, sometimes he wonders if the privilege isn’t hurting them more than it’s helping. The lines of worry that are now creasing his Mate’s forehead shouldn’t be something that he even indirectly causes.

Stiles does the only thing he can think of that might help right now, and presses kitten-kisses to the angry lines, hoping that they might magically go away. When he moves back to see if it worked, he, well. They’ve faded a touch, so that’s at least something.

“I love you, Derek Hale.”

The corners of Derek’s mouth curl up and his eyes seem to follow and the lines around them and across his forehead are now good ones. Stiles runs a thumb across Derek’s kiss-red mouth and Derek nips at the fleshy pad of it and his eyes grow red around the edges. It must startle Stiles more than he realizes—enough to change his scent—as moments later Derek wimpers. The reaction is understandable, even if the suspiciously wolfy delivery of it is not. Other Packs might try to bully the Hales about their son being sub-vocal, but it’s because they assume he can’t talk in public, rather than realizing the simple truth that he simply chooses not to. Derek has never held back his words from Stiles.

Stiles sits up further, resting his ass on Derek’s thighs and reaches back to gently take his Mate’s hands. He slips his fingers through Derek’s carefully. Derek’s face and hands and the rest of him have started into the Beta shift, but it isn’t complete; there are still eyebrows on his face and only rings of red around his eyes, his hands are hairy but his claws haven’t popped, his ears are just starting to elongate but they aren’t actually pointed.

Stiles hums, trying to make it sound interested and happy, rather than worried or scared. It apparently works. One of Derek’s hands starts creeping around towards Stiles’ asscrack again.

“Hey, big D. We can’t. You know we can’t, and I know we can’t and you are not the kind of boy who breaks rules very often.” Derek tips his head to the side a little, and though his hand stops, it doesn’t retreat either, cupping Stiles’ buttcheek. “And, despite the fact that you’re very much okay with the physical-claiming idea associated with us finally Bonding, you are also generally more appreciative of porn where the twinkier dude is reaming the butch guy. I’m pretty sure that if you were going to choose now to start breaking rules, you’d be trying to figure a sneaky way to be presenting your ass to me, not the other way around.”

Derek opens his mouth to, presumably, answer, but all that happens is another whine. His fangs have fully descended, and when his tongue flicks out to investigate that fact he growls and. Well. Being pissed off at his body just seems to push everything a little further: completely red eyes, mutton-chops and disappeared-eyebrows, pointy ears and holes in Stiles’ sweats caused by rapidly deployed claws.

Stiles squeaks and Derek sniffs and that whine is now almost a cry. It didn’t feel like it, but it’s possible one or two of the claws drew blood. Derek tries to pull back into the mattress, but it’s a pointless effort when Stiles is not only sitting on top of him, but also gripping him tightly.

Derek lifts his head off the sheets and sniffs some more. Everything about his face is suddenly about concentration, and a quick glance at his forearms—pale gray lines snaking up them—explains why.

Stiles moves slowly. He brings Derek’s hands around between them and lifts one so he can kiss the back of it. “They’re some pretty-pale pain lines, babe. I’m assuming you got me with your claws, but I can’t actually feel that it happened. The only thing your magic, wolfy-touch is sucking up is my lower back’s issue with the chair at my desk at work.”

Derek grunts, tracing his eyes across every bit of Stiles face in search of truth, as if he wasn’t able to hear Stiles heart stutter over a lie. Apparently satisfied by the double-check, he drops his gaze to their hands and watches Stiles’ thumb dragging back and forth across his own palm. Derek flexes his fingers and growls in their general direction.

“You can’t shift back, huh?” There’s an idea forming in the back of Stiles’ mind, and if it’s right? Somehow he will make the Coven’s leaders pay. “It’s not…” He swallows when Derek looks back up at him, wide, vulnerable eyes that are all the more shocking as they’re glowing red like blood and murder. “I didn’t think about it before I got here. I was too excited about being here with you. Full Moon is the highlight of my month, every month.” He squeezes Derek’s fingers and Derek squeezes back. “If I’d stopped to think about it though? The Wolf Moon and the Super Moon falling on the same night... They planned this. They allowed us together tonight because they thought you’d crack and give into what they think is an animal inside you.”

Derek tries to pull away again, but Stiles keeps their hands gripped together tight. “Oh no, big D. Don’t. I know they’re wrong. And we’re going to prove it to them.” He lifts his ass up off Derek, the air between them cold, even though the heat is on in the room. There’s nothing as warm and toasty as a one’s own personal ‘Wolf-man. Stiles brings Derek’s hand back up to his lips and kisses each knuckle in turn, then puts it palm-flat on Derek’s chest. He squeezes their other hands together as he basically dismounts his fiancé, and looks at the ceiling-lamp as he flops himself onto his back on the bed. “They’ve been playing the long-game. I’ll admit that the whole two-winter thing sounded plausible, though.” He sighs. “They just obviously never considered that we’re in it for the forever-game.”

When Stiles turns his head, Derek’s features have softened somewhat, but he’s still definitely stuck in his Beta-face. Derek’s eyes are pulled into towards each other, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he manages to say something that approximates, “Love you.”

It sounds like he’s speaking with a mouthful of marshmallows, but Stiles understands anyway. Tonight, and he suspects the next couple of Full Moons before their official Bonding, will now be about snuggles and cuddles and gratuitous scent-marking. Well, that and Stiles figuring out just how he can take revenge on the oldest and strongest of the Coven’s members. They will be sorry they made his Mate suffer.

“I love you, too, D.”