#sterekweeklyattract

Not that he spent a whole lot of time around other folks, but he’d been here long enough, getting on 5 years now, to recognize the locals. Derek didn’t notice him in a back corner at first, was too busy mumbling to himself while looking for the right screws for the section of fence he needed to fix, but then he turned around and they locked eyes. There was an intense and puzzled expression on the kid’s face.

Although “kid” didn’t seen quite right. He was young — probably two or three years out of high school, maybe four — but there were dark circles under his whiskey brown eyes that made him seem older. Haunted. Knowing. Derek could see wiry muscle layered over his slender frame under the snug black company T-shirt.

He wasn’t gaunt, but much of the softness he’d once possessed had clearly been stripped away. There was a sharpness to him. High cheekbones and almost a point at the tips of his ears. The angles of his posture; a tilt to his head and hips and the jutting elbows leading to long fingers tightly clasped against his chest. In his clever eyes. 

Both of them seemed to realize they’d been staring at the same time, Derek saying “Uh, howdy” and the stock boy straightening up and asking if he needed help finding anything. 

“Looking for a screw,” he said, after tearing his eyes away and scanning the aisle again. He was already groaning internally when the words were halfway out of his mouth and the new guy — Sean his name tag proclaimed at another glance — snorted before asking what kind while trying to keep a straight face. 

Once the damn things had finally been located Derek moved on to the other couple-three things he needed this time. He caught Sean watching him a few times more and sighed, frowning with concern. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to men — so was he — but it could be dangerous to be so obvious about it out here.

He didn’t look back after Leann rang him up and he headed for the door, but he felt the prickle of eyes upon him, an itch between his shoulder blades, and he wanted to. Later that evening the thunder began.

Who would want to hear about the wanderings of my mind? This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

We’re not all the same in this town.

When his family, his pack, had moved from upstate New York to what he’d once thought a “small town” of 30,000 called Beacon Hills Derek had stayed behind, already into his sophomore year at college and living in his own apartment. A space-craving middle child with his own life. Some great aunt that no one knew about had passed away and left his mother a large plot of land with a slowly deteriorating, but surprisingly functional house that they’d set to fixing up.

He’d been surprised when Peter had gone too, his uncle always reveling in the cosmopolitan, but apparently the territory was special. Something about a big old magic tree. Derek’s eyes would glaze over once he got going.

Yeah, it turned out the place was “special” all right. Whatever woke up again after Great Aunt Hilda died started calling all manner of supernaturals, often of an unfriendly sort. That in itself likely would’ve been manageable until they figured out how to shut the damn beacon (har de har) off again, but with “animal attacks” and “mysterious deaths” on the rise so came Hunters. 

Derek visited the new Hale House on a handful of occasions, the last and longest time a few weeks the summer before his senior year of college. He’d been out at a bar, still thrilled at being old enough to enter one despite alcohol doing nothing to intoxicate him, when this pretty dirty blonde with a wicked grin came up to him. There was something unsettling about her, a harshness to some product she wore, but the older woman was all confidence and laughter and playful aggression and he was captivated and full of hormones, so they stumbled off attached at the face and took a rideshare to some sketchy motel. 

They hooked up three, maybe four times while he was there, Derek always taking care to shower with a scent neutralizer after because he didn’t want any shit from his family. And then he was heading back to New York, texting “Kay” or “K” or however she spelled it goodbye and setting his mind to the next few weeks of end-of-summer parties and the classes that were to start on their heels. 

A couple evenings later he was watching some new sitcom when he felt first his father and then his mother die in the span of what was probably a few minutes, but seemed much longer. He booked a flight as soon as he could, finally getting a hold of Laura before leaving for the airport early the next morning. She told him they’d been attacked, the house circled in mountain ash and set ablaze as she was on her way home.

Cora was okay, had been on the other side of where twin fires started and trapped their parents in between. She’d managed to escape out a window when a piece of debris or something must’ve disrupted the ash line. Peter though she’d found severely injured. Burned and pretty much unrecognizable, though still alive. 

That same afternoon during his layover in Seattle he felt her die too and ran to the bathroom retching and trying to hide his flashing eyes. It couldn’t be. Not his sister too. Not Laura. What the fuck was going on?! 

His wolf wanted to howl for the death of his closest packmate, the loss of two Alphas in two days, but he couldn’t. Not there in the airport. He couldn’t cry then for Laura and his parents either knowing that if he started he wouldn’t stop. Would fall apart.  

Derek forced himself to calm down enough, outwardly at least, to get on the second, mercifully short flight an hour later. Caught up in traffic he didn’t make it to Beacon Hills until after 7:00pm, driving the rental straight to the address that Laura — oh God, Laura — had given him. There he found his reportedly horrifically burned uncle looking very much like himself with the exception of some scars on the side of his neck and red eyes. 

Maybe if the first words he’d said to Derek had been “I’m so sorry” or “I didn’t mean to” things might’ve gone differently. Whether he didn’t because that would’ve been a lie — intentionally killing Laura while she was no doubt trying to care for him — or because he didn’t think he needed to apologize if he’d been truly out of his mind, Derek would never know. 

Because when Peter opened his mouth all that came out was a bunch of hand-waving about the “unfortunate situation,” a promise that things would be okay (things would never be “okay” again,) and how they were still family — only three of them left now — and had to stick together. Derek too, even though he had consorted with a Hunter, but not to worry, he had wasted no time taking care of the ones involved.

The shock of the last statement had been enough to snap him out of his overt, incandescent rage and Peter continued with how he’d recognized the scent of one of the lackeys and got him to spill on the others. After getting rid of Unger he took out the Argent Hunters — Kate — and her father, and then finally Reddick. 

Slowly, Derek approached him, the elder wolf likely assuming he’d been overcome by guilt or deep in a daze (both of which weren’t far behind) and expecting a show of submission to accept him as Alpha. Perhaps that he’d been seeking comfort or forgiveness. A hug.

He was starting to say something about expanding the pack when Derek tore out his throat. 

Roaring. Ringing. Static.

Afterward, when he came back to himself, he tried to find Cora, but she’d fled when Laura died. Her phone was likely in the smoldering ruins of the house and his own forgotten in NY, possibly in the cab. He did run into Christopher Argent, an incredibly tense encounter that consisted of tersely exchanged information and twitching claws and trigger fingers. 

Apparently, the Hunter hadn’t been aware of his sister’s plan, which his father had approved. Both were indeed dead. Peter was dead too because he killed Laura. No, Derek wasn’t staying. It brought some measure of relief to learn that based on a discovered journal the scheming had begun before his visit, that the attack wasn’t because of him somehow, but the guilt and shame, the disgust and self-hatred for having slept with someone so evil remained. 

Then he realized that that harsh scent clinging heavily to the human now in front of him, a scent he’d picked up slightly from her, must’ve been wolfsbane. Derek fell to his knees, thankfully not getting shot when the Hunter flinched, as guilt slammed back into him. He’d never actually encountered it before, the Hunters in New York having enough to deal with to bother supernaturals who weren’t causing harm, but he couldn’t stop wondering “what if?” 

What if he’d taken an interest in tagging along to the formal meetings with other packs and Hunter representatives with Laura and his mother? What if he hadn’t showered so thoroughly and someone brought it to his attention? It probably wouldn’t have changed anything other than him never leaving with her or him fucking her fewer times, but now he’d always wonder about the off chance that they might’ve been more alert. What if, what if, what if.

Cora, who he finally got in contact with after returning to NY, had much of the same feelings toward him herself once he haltingly explained what he’d found out. She was angry at everyone and everything, refusing to come back to him and eventually ending up in South America and joining a pack down there. They talked once, maybe twice a year. Confirmed the other was still alive and had some painful or awkward conversation (usually both) where she’d inevitably refer to Kate as his “psycho ex-girlfriend” and he’d want to shout that they were never dating, but didn’t. And that was that for the Hales.

It’s such a long swim and now there is no sight of land.

So I’ve come here to wait for the end of it all.

As was pretty much always the case when he had a new project, Derek had to go back to the hardware store in between his regular visits to town every week or so for something he’d forgotten or only realized he needed after he'd started. And so two days later there he was again, being helped by Mike, the clean-shaven 50-something owner, but watched not so surreptitiously by Sean. Until the young man knocked into a display trying to keep him in view as he moved to go down another aisle, that is. 

Derek's lips curled ever so slightly upward as he pretended not to notice the scrambling to pick up or straighten the disarrayed products going on behind him. He could see Mike shaking his head in his peripheral vision, muttering under his breath about how maybe he should start drug testing. It took everything in him to keep from reacting to something he shouldn’t be able to hear. Poor Sean. People looking he was used to, but he’d never made a person run into something before as far as he knew. It was flattering. 

This time when he felt that keen gaze upon his back as he left he turned his head while stepping through the door, finding Sean absentmindedly holding a wrench with his lips gently parted. He nodded, causing the short-haired brunet to hastily duck his head like the length of metal had suddenly called his name. Derek swallowed thickly as he walked across the parking lot thinking of those cupid's bow lips.

It wasn't like he was immune to the younger man's charms either, from the broad shoulders to his cute, upturned nose. If Derek was someone — something — else he'd be up for having a go, see what those long fingers and that smart mouth (he just knew) could do. Find out what he looked like under his clothes and felt like with those nice long legs wrapped around him. Maybe lay out in the field and look up at the stars after and get to know each other.

But he wasn’t. 

Derek sighed as he climbed into his outfit, a gray, no-frills, 2-door 2017 F-350 with four wheel drive capable of towing a 3 horse trailer even on rough terrain. He tucked his new Texas Fence Fixer underneath the passenger seat and sought out some music to distract himself. 

The one thing he bothered to add to the truck after a year with only the radio was an after market stereo that also gave him the option of bluetooth, usb port or aux input. Derek used the latter, still having a working discman as he preferred to collect physical media when possible both for the higher sound quality and so he didn’t have to worry about things getting yanked from a streaming service for whatever reason. They were his.

Derek flipped through his cd booklet and slipped out The Trials of Van Occupanther by Midlake. The first track, fittingly titled “Roscoe,” was a new favorite of his and he’d been surprised to learn that the album had come out in 2006 because it sounded like something decades older. Like something his dad might’ve listened to as a kid driving around with his own father back in the 70s. A pang of grief ran through him. 

He pressed play and headed back, singing along and trying not to think of enthralling brown eyes and mole-spotted skin. 

“Ohh, and when the morning comes we will step outside. We will not find another man in sight. We like the newness, the newness of all, that has grown in our garden soaking for so lo-o-o-o-o-ong.”

The music helped for a while, but when Derek arrived he trudged inside the quiet house, new tool forgotten in the truck. He sank down onto the plain beige couch and cradled his head in his hands. When he eventually looked up his gaze was drawn to the painting hanging off-center across from him.

Despite the fact that one of the ways he brought in income was taking photographs of wildlife and the great outdoors he only had one piece of art on his otherwise bare walls and it wasn’t one of his. No, it was a relatively large painting of a ship sailing before a rocky outcrop in a storm, rough dark waves and lightning flashing, that he spied in a free pile on the side of the road after an estate sale. He’d found it compelling and all too relatable, even more so having been discarded after belonging to some now dead person. 

He imagined himself tossed overboard, battered by waves as he watched the imperiled, but infinitely preferable vessel get farther away. Trying to stay afloat, to breathe, between bouts of being knocked under. Into stone. Growing tired and heavy in the cold water. Limbs slowing. Water closing over his face for the last time. Sinking. 

Green eyes stared until everything was gray.

Bring me a day full of honest work and a roof that never leaks. I’ll be satisfied.

There’s a new wild feeling dancing in the air.

Derek never pretended that he’d always been from here, would even say where he’d come from (gasp, New York) should someone bother to ask, but this place seeped through his skin and into his bones. The mountains and the plains and the great, big sky. Like how the rain soaked into the thirsty earth in summer where it didn’t turn to gumbo. He didn’t have a “spread,” had no desire to play at being a rancher like most of his distant neighbors were, but he had a nice stretch of gently rolling prairie leading up to forest and the Beartooth Mountains. 

He’d wandered a while before deciding he wanted to buy land in rural Montana with most of his portion of the life insurance money. And now for something completely different, came John Cleese’s voice in his head. His dad had been a huge Monty Python fan. 

There’d been another plot that he stumbled across online that seemed particularly appealing, but there was no way in hell he was living somewhere named Argenta. He checked out a few other potentials, including in person, but then he saw this place and knew. Roscoe, unincorporated Carbon County, MT. Population 16 as of the most recent census. Well, it was 17 now. 

When he first arrived there’d been some months where he saddled up at the Grizzly Bar a good nine or ten times, desperate for the presence of other people despite his opposing desire to get away from it all. A city boy soothed by the chatter of the regulars and those who came out the 70-odd miles from Billings or even farther away just for a bite of fresh beef: steak, burgers, or prime rib. Talking about nothing at all with someone plunked down on a stool nearby or with the bartender serving him his usual whiskey ditch. Even just the sound of some bullshit calling itself news on the tv. Baseball or something.

There’d been other months where he hadn’t once darkened the doorway, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling or ghosting around his property, burning through his supplies until he got hungry enough to run down some burrowing critter or a speed goat if a herd came through and he happened to get lucky. Those suckers could run up to 55mph in short bursts if they saw you coming, fastest land animal in the hemisphere. The tawny, white marked ungulates with dark bits on their faces were also known as prairie goats or pronghorn antelopes despite being neither goats not antelopes, but something closer to the okapi and giraffes in Africa than anything else left alive. That was Montana for you.

It helped when he got his first horse, a gray gelding named Gable (say that 5 times fast) and had to get up to take care of another living being. A companion of sorts to spend time with and do stuff for and touch. Werewolves didn’t usually go feral without a pack like a lot of the stories said, but it certainly wasn’t good for them to be alone. 

He evened out to around once a week at the Grizzly, usually stopping by on his way to or from the closest real town (a whopping 1200-1800 folks depending on the season) for one thing or another. Red Lodge wasn’t far, about 20 miles away, but he often made a day of it. Maybe catch a movie at the one screen Roman Theater, which opened in 1917 and was the oldest continuously operating one in the state. Derek picked up all kinds of tidbits like that along with the slang and even the accent to a certain extent. 

He’d walk around and pass the flower shop he hadn’t felt a need to go into so far, maybe get something fancy from the bakery or one of the cafés. Buy random crap from the dollar store, supplies for building or maintenance from Rock Creek Lumber, and groceries from Beartooth Market or the farmer’s market. Takeout from the Chinese restaurant or the pizza shop or the taqueria (or occasionally all 3) for later. 

A handful of times a year he’d drive up to Billings for the things he couldn’t get closer. Less common cuisines, indie flicks, speciality items, etc. One night stands or even more furtive and frenetic hook ups, though he had’t bothered the last few times. He’d get eyes from the local ladies, some of them very much married, but he kept away from the free ones who he might’ve fancied as well. 

In all likelihood starting anything would mean either trying to have a relationship while hiding half of himself or winding up shot for being a monster and having to abandon his property, assuming he wasn’t killed by a particularly well-placed bullet. Even the guns had guns out here. Same issue with the local men he noticed were so inclined only with the addition of them almost certainly being Narnia-level closeted (wardrobed? whatever) and teaming with notions about manhood that would only cause pain. So that was that for love. Not like he deserved it anyway.

It wasn’t a bad life. He made enough to get by without dipping into the other money doing odd jobs and remote temp work along with his photography. There was breathtaking beauty and all sorts of projects to keep his hands busy and his body active. Responsibility and enjoyment interacting with the horses and books to occupy his mind at least some of the time.

Yeah, that’s what he told himself anyway. It was true enough on the surface, but underneath it all he had an emptiness inside bigger than the sky.

A sky which was now, from the sound of it, soon threatening to dump a river’s worth of water on his head despite there not being a mass of dark, heavy rainclouds anywhere in sight. Only a smattering of wispy ones on a mostly sunny day. What in the world?

Regardless, he quickly guided his spooked horses inside the stable barn, the bay mare sisters Ada and Jessie joining Gable a couple years ago. Three was a good number. Company for each other and able to keep him busy for at least a few hours a day, but manageable.

Derek stroked the agitated creatures in turns, along their necks and between their ears and over their snouts, speaking gentle nonsense to try to calm them. They all had white markings on their faces: Ada’s looking kind of like a leaf print, Gable’s like a streak of paint, and Jessie’s, unfortunately (or amusingly,) like a large bird shat on her forehead.

He was on edge himself from the strange wild power dancing in the air, nervous but also feeling alive, more present and in his body than he’d been in some time. He stayed with the horses as they trembled together until the unnatural thunder ceased. 

When I look into your brown eyes I struggle to pull aside. I’m wanting you more within my life.

What sort of pressure, and what kind of force must there have been to drive you here?

It was over a week into July and Derek had made another half dozen trips or so to RC, always torn between wanting to see Sean, get to have a bit of a chat or a joke, and hoping that the mischievous younger man he found increasingly attractive didn’t have a shift that day. He could’ve just gone to Ace Hardware instead and avoided the situation altogether, but he couldn’t bear to stay away long. He’d skipped one week and ended up going twice the next, so he decided to just leave it up to fate. A rather dangerous prospect given his life so far. 

Twice he’d been absent when Derek was there, including the last time. It was just as well because he’d been in a foul mood, dirty and cursing and damp after slipping in mud and falling in a puddle on the way to town. It was hot as hell — mid-90s — and had just finished raining when he’d stopped to try helping some out-of-towners get unstuck.

They’d pulled off the nice paved road just beyond a chicken foot and into the fresh sludge beside it for some goddamn reason. It was a futile attempt even for his truck without having gravel or wood or something to let the car regain traction while being pulled. The group was waiting on a tow truck when he left.

He thought he caught movement in the back of the store out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned around there was nothing there. Nothing he could see anyway. What he could smell a few moments later was another matter entirely. 

Derek had no idea what it was, but it was rich and intoxicating and called to his wolf. His eyes flashed red involuntarily and it had startled him back under control. He hadn’t slipped like that in years and thankfully neither Leann up front nor the older man browsing at the end of the aisle were paying him any mind.

Cautiously, he took a couple deep breaths, but still couldn’t identify the scent, which was now just beginning to dissipate with the back door being open. Wait, when did that happen? Derek shook his head, trying to refocus his senses. His thoughts. Was he losing time? Imagining things? Or was something messing with him? 

He fell into into an uneasy vigilance. Whatever the cause something was going on and he felt the need to get out of there. He didn’t really have to get anything today anyway and did his best to casually head for the door, a goodbye called over his shoulder.

Derek cut his outing short and headed straight home, feeling nervous the whole drive back. He kept an eye and an ear and his nose out the rest of the day and into the wee hours until he finally conked out close to dawn. If there’d been anyone around they’d probably tell him he was overreacting, but it was precisely because there wasn’t anymore that he expected the worst. He stuck to the house and only ventured out to check on the horses. 

He didn’t let his guard down until a few days later, exhausted and feeling foolish. Of course that’s when they came.

Derek hadn’t noticed the diesel pickup until it was already coming up the driveway due to yet another sudden, noisy storm nearby. This one at least seemed more normal since it was actually raining. 

It was late in the evening and he’d hurried out the back door to circle around and scope them out. He didn’t want to risk his wolf eyes giving him away, so at first he could only make out that it was three figures that were probably male. Then they stepped into the light by his front door, the one on the left reaching out to knock as the others scanned around with hands in their jackets. 

Even before the wind changed direction it was clear from the way they moved and dressed that they weren’t cops. Not regular cops, cow cops, tree cops, feds, or any other kind. And then there it was again, the scent of wolfsbane. The knocking Hunter dropped his hand and joined the others in looking around. 

“Hale, we’re not here to harm you. We just need to talk. You have my word,”  the stocky, sandy-haired man shouted.

Derek snorted quietly. That one might be telling the truth at the moment, but what about the others? As if reading his mind, the same 30-something guy — the actual leader or a decoy? — nudged the taller men who were now on either side of him. He could practically feel them eye-rolling from here, but they too made the same assurances if with more hesitation. 

Finally, the first man mentioned the reason for their visit. They’d tracked a dangerous creature to this area, a killer of several people and likely the cause of the freakish weather. Some kind of kitsune.

Derek’s eyebrows flew up. Now that was interesting and perhaps worth the risk. He might not have more than a passing acquaintance with anyone, but he didn’t want to just sit back and watch folks get slaughtered.

He didn’t want to get pumped full of wolfsbane either so he made a point of crunching the gravel beneath his feet as he slowly started to approach. The guy on the right, mid-20s with a narrow face and long, dark hair, still whirled around with his gun raised and Derek made sure to keep his own truck between him and them. The talker hissed at the man, who lowered the weapon somewhat. They stood sizing  each other up and ignoring the rain for few moments before Talker asked if he knew the whereabouts of a recent arrival. 

After a couple interjections from Young Gun they gave a pretty solid description: A 20 year old white man, 5’10”, with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and moles on his face. Last seen in Red Lodge.

“Huh,” he muttered, pretending to search his memory even as his stomach plummeted. 

Maybe Derek was being irrational and letting his crush or whatever it was affect his judgement, but he just couldn’t believe that Sean, which was likely not his real name, was running around murdering people all willy-nilly. Not without some type of proof beyond the word of Hunters. There was something in his past, a sense that he’d been touched by darkness, but he didn’t seem like a source of it himself.

Oh and you’re such a great judge of character? his inner critic said in Cora’s voice. Heh. Well, he had picked up something unsettling about her. It’s just that he was going through life as a typical college student back then and thought it was in a “might get super insulting or jealous and controlling“ kind of way and not a “genocidal and will kill your family for fun because she thinks you’re abominations yet will still fuck you” kind of way. 

He clenched his jaw minutely and then looked Talker in the eye.

“Sorry, I don’t know where he is,” he stated firmly, which was entirely true. Derek knew where he’d been, but he had no idea where he was now or where he would be. Obviously, if they weren’t just waiting to follow him from work or something Sean was already aware that they were here. Maybe there’d even been some kind of confrontation. 

Once again his insides flipped at the thought. Sean could be injured. Or long gone and never to be seen again. 

The third man, a lanky grizzled 40-ish blond who’d been silently watching the proceedings, narrowed his eyes. 

“If you’re hiding this monster, Hale—“ he began, before being cut off.

“Surely, he knows better than that,” Talker said, smiling with too many teeth. He reached into his pocket, opened his wallet, and wedged a business card in the door jamb. “Well, if you do see him, give us a call.” 

“You betcha,” Derek said mildly, lying to his face. He felt a moments’ amusement at finally using the ubiquitous phrase. The Hunters started walking towards their truck and he took that as his cue to back away, never taking his eyes off of them. 

“We’ll be seeing you,” Young Gun called with a sneer before climbing in the driver’s seat. 

Well that was ominous. He didn’t respond and waited until they we were well down the road before going back inside, throwing the card straight in the trash. Even if it turned out that the stock boy did need to be…to be neutralized Derek would be damned before handing him over to the likes of them. 

But now he had to worry about Hunters knowing about him — and how exactly did that happen? — and he was alone and vulnerable. Couldn’t he catch a break? He sighed heavily. 

Derek thought about running, but a lot of his money was tied up in the land. He’d settled in and accumulated stuff. Had horses. The idea of starting all over yet again was not just daunting, but soul-destroying. Enraging. Overwhelming. Impossible.

And then what, just wait for the next time? Spend the rest of his life as he’d just done the previous few days; stressed out, on high alert, and looking over his shoulder? Clinging to this scrap of existence? He was tired. Beyond tired.

The odds weren’t great to say the least, 3 vs 1 assuming they were weren’t more of them lurking around, but Derek wasn’t going anywhere. One way or another he was done. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d be particularly incompetent and poorly trained. Yeah right. Maybe he could take one or more of them down with him. That was more likely.

The next morning he made sure the horses had access to extra feed and water and called up the farm supply store in Roberts, asking the manager, Wes, if he’d be willing to do him a favor. To call if he didn’t hear from Derek by noon every other day for the next while and if he didn’t by the time the store closed at 6pm to come out and check on the horses. Charge anything he saw fit to his account. The generally jovial middle-aged former linesman listened quietly until he was done. 

“You got some type of trouble, Hale?” he asked, gruff with concern. 

“Could be,” Derek replied numbly. He thanked Wes and hung up without elaborating.

The following night there was another storm, brief, but closer and much more violent than before. A truly awesome display in every sense of the word, bolts of colorful orange lightning flashing when he peeked out before heeding the urge to keep away. When he was sure it was over he brought treats out for poor Ada, Jessie, and Gable. 

The next time Derek went to town a couple afternoons later he passed by the hardware store, but didn’t stop in case he or it was being watched. It was no surprise, but when he saw the Help Wanted sign in the window his left hand clenched into a fist, the tips of his claws piercing skin until blood dripped onto his denim clad knee or down to the floorboard. He wondered where Sean went. If he was even still alive now.

That evening Derek was at the Grizzly flipping through an abandoned copy of the weekly regional newspaper — July 15th, today’s edition — when he saw that three men had been found dead yesterday. Out-of-towners from California who had all managed to get electrocuted wandering around a field by Roscoe. A freak weather occurrence the night before. Huh.

Well that takes care of that problem. There were no pictures of the deceased and he would follow up on the story to make sure, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t, in fact, be seeing those Hunters around. As for what else was going on, he guessed he’d have to wait and see.

Follow me down a fox hole in the ground. Don’t delay.

Everything is moving so fast. I am unlimited.

The full moon fell on another scorcher two days later, the air still warm and muggy a couple hours after the sun finally deigned to set around 9:00pm. Derek was tending to his horses, waiting until the temperature wasn’t sweltering anymore, but still sweating through his shirt after mucking out their stalls. Putting out fresh straw and climbing up into the hayloft and back down again multiple times. He wanted to have bales ready for tomorrow and maybe the following day and gave his interested audience a snack of hay and apples as well. 

Derek wasn’t sure if he was gonna stay close tonight or go ranging once the moon was in full effect shortly before midnight. The Hunters were gone (he’d confirmed it online that morning) and he hadn’t been up to it the previous month, so he was leaning toward going out for a bit and seeing how it went. He felt the moment when the alignment occurred, the moon’s power calling to his blood, to his wolf, who responded with an interested, but rather mild wag of its metaphorical tail. 

Derek sighed remembering how exhilarated he used to be, champing at the bit to run wild and reveling in his full shift. I should be grateful I feel anything at all these days. He finished up and was petting Ada goodbye when he heard the clock in the house strike midnight. It was another free box find, beat up, but with a functional pendulum, which he liked since he could know what time it was from any of the buildings on his property and a good chunk of the land without having to wear a watch. It could be silenced at night or whenever else he wished otherwise it would’ve ended up back in a pile.  

On the seventh chime the lights inside the barn started flickering and that strange energy was in the air again, full of wild, dangerous potential. There was a moment of laden silence and then something moved in the brush outside. Derek’s hair stood on end. 

He looked at his nervously whinnying horses and was glad that he’d been waiting until the check-in tomorrow to tell Wes not to bother with them anymore instead of calling him today. They would hopefully survive this even if he didn’t. He took a deep breath and walked into the night.

Lightning flashed high in the sky, confined to the rapidly congregating clouds for now, but Derek cringed nonetheless. A human-shaped shadow materialized from the darkness beyond the floodlights on the other side of the building, otherworldly eyes glowing a burnt orange. Moments later Sean was sauntering around the outskirts of the illuminated sphere wearing a sharp-fanged grin, wind blowing his not-quite-as-short hair as it whipped around and behind him. 

Instead of relaxing at the mostly familiar face that he’d spent weeks daydreaming about Derek tensed even more, wondering if Sean thought he’d helped those Hunters. Or if they were actually right about him and he’d come to finish off his prey. Derek couldn’t think of another reason why he’d be here like this. At this time of night, looking like that. His wolf was still and alert.

He had increased strength from the moon, but he couldn’t fight lightning. Honestly, without the animosity he reserved for Hunters he didn’t really want to at this point. He was tired. Of the isolation and loneliness, even with his horses. The grief and guilt and pain. Of living. The emptiness that was gonna swallow him whole some day anyway. Even as the rest of him still rebelled at the idea there was a rather large part of him that felt relieved while staring death in the face. 

The air stilled again momentarily and Derek closed his red eyes, breathing deeply as that intoxicating scent reached his nose for a second time. The scent of Sean. A final mystery solved as he waited for the end. At least it should be quick.

Oh, the fox came for him all right, but not at all in the way he’d expected. Derek kept his eyes closed even as footsteps raced toward him and moments later a body was colliding with his. The next thing he knew he was laid out on the ground, air knocked from his lungs and flat on his back with Sean straddling him. Purring. 

To say he was shocked was an understatement. Shocked, but starting to get turned on.

Hands planted on his chest, Sean leaned forward and sniffed at his neck, giving it a lick and sounding pleased when increased arousal flooded through him. He licked some more and nipped at Derek’s jaw, Inhaling again. The fox grinned mischievously and sat all the way down on his tenting crotch, grinding on him. Lying on top of him and rubbing himself all over, getting Derek all riled up.

He was content to let the fox have his way with him, but then in the blink of an eye Sean was standing and peering down at his confused form. Backing away towards the tall grass with swaying hips and a heavy-lidded gaze, licking his lips. Derek leapt to his feet, tracking every movement and matching step for step. He began to growl as Sean neared the rustling, wind-whipped vegetation and slowly turned around. Mine his wolf declared hungrily. The fox looked over his shoulder and smirked before taking off into the field.

Dirt flew as Derek tore after him, beta-shifted as he crashed through the grass. It was tall, but not enough to hide someone of their heights, yet he couldn’t see even a head floating above it. With the erratic wind still blowing it was also hard to discern that movement from one caused by someone ducked and passing through. He was going to have to rely on his hearing and smell, which were superior in wolf form. Quickly he stripped down and shifted completely, setting off again. 

Lightning flashed again, thunder deafening, and he snapped his jaws at the sky. He dropped his muzzle to the ground, sniffing for where the fox had touched the earth since he couldn’t get a good scent from the air. He came across the trail and sped along it, that unique aroma growing stronger. Derek burst into a small bare patch of land where the scent was concentrated, but instead of catching Sean he only found a pile of discarded clothing. Clever. Despite his frustration he was impressed. Either he’s crawling around naked on his hands and knees, which is entirely possible — the thought went straight to his cock  — or he’s a shifter too.

Derek was betting on the latter and this time he also looked for paw prints and snapped stalks lower down while trying to move quietly himself. During a break in the distracting weather, which seemed to be winding down, he heard what sounded like the brief tangling of a smaller animal up ahead. Stalking closer he saw a glimpse of brightness in the moonlight and rushed forward. The fox gekkered and started running again, Derek howling in pursuit. 

Twisting and turning they darted through the drying blades of grass, his muzzle nearly touching a tail or leg on more than one occasion. Then Sean shot out into open ground, Derek too close behind to successfully double back to the more advantageous environment. His quarry in full sight with no where to hide he put on another burst of speed and began to gain on the other shifter, nostrils flaring at the musky scent. Earthy and sweet. Derek wanted to roll in it, but he had to catch him first.

Closer and closer he came and he could see more clearly that Sean was a beautiful multicolored fox, bright orange and black with patches of what might’ve been gray or silver. He had every intention of finding out later in the daylight. Finally, he deemed it near enough for a good tackle and he leapt, carefully landing over the wily creature and immediately dropping his weight on top of him. Derek took the scruff of his wiggling prey in his jaws and clamped down, but didn’t break the skin as the fox panted and whined beneath him. Mine.

His wolf was rearing to go, the overwhelming urge to thrust and bite and claim, but there was no way he could fuck the much smaller animal even if he’d wanted to. Thankfully, Sean began shifting back, thick, fluffy fur receding and becoming an expanse of dotted skin as he rapidly grew in size. Derek followed suit and soon he was pressed against the younger man, still gripping the skin of his neck in his mouth. He replaced his teeth with a firm, possessive hand and used his other arm to push himself upward to view what was his. 

Panting with arousal as much as exertion now, Sean rested low on his forearms and knees and spread his legs in clear invitation. The youth glistened between his thighs and Derek ran two fingers there before sliding up to his sopping wet hole and the source of the richer ambrosial scent. Groaning, he slipped one and then two digits inside Sean’s tight heat, trying to give him some measure of prep before mounting him as his wolf demanded to do. 

The impatient shifter whined and growled, bucking back on his fingers, which were now up to three. He turned his head and snapped at Derek, so he withdrew them taking the hint. If Sean was so desperate for his cock he was going to give it to him. Coating himself with the wondrous slick he lined himself up and pushed inside, hole fluttering around him as it worked to accommodate his girth. 

Draping over his back and eyes closed in pleasure Derek immediately began to thrust, wrapping an arm around Sean’s chest to hold him close as he balanced with the other. He ran that hand soothingly along the whimpering shifter’s flank as he pounded into him, too much wolf to be gentle now that he finally started. He adjusted his angle though and soon the breathy, higher pitched sounds became low, throaty moans and Sean dropped down to his shoulders, lifting his ass in offering for more. 

The fox tried to sneak a hand down to his cock, but Derek snarled and grabbed it, holding both hands down with his own. He thrusted harder, making him cry out and push back wantonly. Derek wanted him to cum from his cock alone, but he wasn’t cruel. If his fox couldn’t get there before him he would help things along.

When he started to knot, he took the back of Sean’s neck between his jaws again, an instinctual need to keep his mate in place. Whining and gasping the youth spread his legs even wider as Derek worked it in with short, jerky movements until he was locked inside. Growling lowly he switched to grinding and it wasn’t long before the fox tensed up, a piercing shout before rhythmic clenching began around his knot, the scent of cum hanging in the air.

Sean continued to milk him and then Derek was tipping over the edge himself, shooting his load deep within the otherwise lax body. Releasing the bruised skin to howl in triumph, his fangs then descended and he was clamping down once more, this time sinking into flesh and spilling blood to claim the writhing fox. Still coming as the budding connection snapped into place, he turned them sideways and began alternately licking the slowly healing wound and marking up the skin around it. Mine mine mate.

Won’t you tell me how I will not feel so lonely?

Thought we were due for a change or two around this place.

As he came back down to earth from the high of their mating, their breaths slowing and heart rates returning to normal, his human self likewise returned more assertively to the fore as the animal receded into the background. The wolf was happy, calm, and satisfied, but the man began to fret and doubt even as he held on more tightly to the young man in his arms whose body he was still buried to the hilt inside. 

Did the fox want to be mated to him or had he just been expecting sex? And if he did was it only because his wilder, instinctual side was in control or was all of him truly onboard? Derek himself hadn't known he was actually going to bite him until right before it happened, though it was something his entirety wanted very much despite how he’d normally try to deny it. 

Before he could sink deeper into worrying about having tied the fox to him beyond the immediate way a hand crept back to rub the nape of neck. 

"Hi," whispered his mate, the first words spoken between them tonight. In something like two weeks now. 

"Hi," he whispered back. "You okay?" 

"More than," the fox chuckled weakly. "I could just hear you thinking so loudly " 

He noted the scent of content amusement, which dialed his concern down a notch. Still he took a deep breath. "About me…biting you…” 

"I wanted you to." 

"Yeah?" Derek asked softly, almost disbelieving. 

"...I came to you and initiated a chase on the full moon." 

He grinned at the snarky reply and mouthed at an earlobe, nipping it and grinding himself into Sean's prostate again. The fox moaned and turned his head to nip back at Derek's nose before continuing. 

"I might still be fairly new to all this, but I knew that much. That you would probably bite me if you felt... " There was a sudden shift in his scent. Uncertainty and a hint of guilt. "But you..." 

"I wanted you too. The moon is strong, yes, but if I truly wasn’t interested, didn’t want you, I could’ve made myself stay where I was. Walk the other way.” Derek felt his sigh of relief and inhaled contentment once more. Good. “So what brings you to Gopher Crotch, Montana?”

“I hadn’t heard that one yet,” Sean replied, laughing before growing quiet. Derek grimaced, chiding himself. 

“S’okay, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t even know why I asked. It just popped into my head and I guess my filter is pretty non-existent at the moment.” He sighed. “Folks end up out here and it’s rarely puppies and rainbows they’re coming from.” 

“Speaking from experience?”

“Yup.” 

The fox grabbed his left hand where it was idly running up and down his side and pulled Derek’s arm across him, intertwining their fingers and holding his hand against his chest.

After several moments he started to explain that he came here to try to learn to control his power in a sparsely populated area. He’d done a sacrificial ritual with some friends to save his father and a couple others, leaving himself vulnerable, and was possessed by a dark kitsune. The sadness evident when speaking of his friends grew thicker as he described the damage his hijacked body had done. Hurting and killing people. They finally managed to get rid of it when a werewolf friend bit him, but he ended up becoming some hybrid kitsune/fox shifter after.  

“The Nogitsune can’t be two things at once, but apparently I can. Or I don’t know, maybe it assumed I’d be a wolf and bounced before realizing. Maybe it was something it left behind that made me change into a fox after starting to turn. Or maybe it was just me.” The younger man shook his head and snorted.

“Who knows? Whatever the reason, it happened. I knew other shifters, mostly werewolves and a coyote. Had a kitsune friend too. But none who were both.”

He spoke of the distance and awkwardness between them after. The looks. His guilt and grief. The nightmares. And then how he accidentally shocked his father when he tried to wake him. 

“He survived. Recovered okay last I heard, but I-I couldn’t…” Sean trailed off, choking up.

“I know,” Derek said, squeezing his hand and waiting as he gathered himself.

“I once visited a great uncle out this side as a kid — not here, way more East — and after a few months on the road I thought of that. I had this old Jeep that belonged to my mom, named it Roscoe. There was no way it could make a trip like this, so I left it behind rather than have to ditch it somewhere in case some day…” His mate sighed. “So when I saw that on the map, well, I couldn’t help but stop nearby. Like it was sign.”

“I’m glad you did.” 

“Here I was about a week or so, got a job at RC, and then you come strolling on in. Immediately I was aware of you, drawn like a moth to a flame. I’d been…I’m not sure how to describe it, but like, buzzing inside from my power and eventually it’d grow until I’d have to let it out. But then I got this strange feeling of calmness with you there. And of course you were hot as fuck too.“

Derek blushed and grinned, dropping his face into the crook of his mate’s neck before responding. 

“I was drawn to you as well. Intrigued. I didn’t know what to do with that, figured you were one more thing — or person — that I couldn’t have. Every time I saw you I was attracted more and more…” he shook his head ruefully. “Couldn’t stay away. So each time I pulled up I’d hope you weren’t there, but then was happy when you were and disappointed when you weren’t.” 

The fox made a noise of amused commiseration. 

“Our animal sides can be on some crazy shit at times, but there are definitely others when the human just gets in the way and you have to let the fox, or wolf, lead.” He purred and rubbed himself back against Derek and he rumbled back, setting his teeth gently over the mating mark. 

“Apparently. Mine’s been pretty quiet for a while now, except sometimes when I’m hunting or if go running on the full moon. Not much for him to react to, you know? No pack, no other shifters nearby or even passing through recently. Even with the Hunters he was more in the background. Giving me information, but not trying to take point. 

“And then you were all over me and took off with that look in your eye and he came roaring awake.” Derek chuckled at the smug satisfaction emanating from the fox. “So I take it you knew I was a wolf right away?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Huh. I couldn’t pick up anything supernatural about you until tonight.” Shoulders shrugged against Derek’s own.

“It seems to be a kitsune thing. A defensive measure that keeps you hidden unless you consciously drop it or when you’re actively using your powers.” 

“Huh. And are fox abilities pretty much the same as wolves?”

“I think so, but sometimes weaker or stronger.”

“Hmm.” He was curious and looking forward to learning more about his mate. He knew that they existed, but had never actually known a fox shifter before. Or a kitsune. Both were significantly rarer than werewolves, at least in the States.

Derek figured it was his turn to share, so he gave a basic rundown of his own story. His lost family. How he stayed in New York when they moved away. The fire. Laura. Peter. He braced for judgement, if not for his naiveté with the Hunter then for killing his uncle, but the fox only turned their still clasped left hands over and kissed his palm. 

He mentioned his estranged little sister and how he’d been resigned to being alone. When he was done his mate was thrumming with anger.

“Fucking Hunters,” Sean said, bitterly. “If they’d stick to their supposed code it’d be one thing, but so many of them clearly don’t. I ran into some before here too, back in Beacon Hills—“

Derek froze, heart racing as his mind tried to process those words. Surely he hadn’t heard that right. Or it was some other place with the same name. There was no fucking way. He’d been able to tell his story with a certain amount of detachment, but he hadn’t spoken the name of that cursed place. Could hardly bear to think it. Laughter in a bar. His claws red. The smell of charred wood and melted plastic when he made himself see the house before he left.

A concerned voice calling out to him broke him out the spell.

“—okay? Hey, what’s wrong?” 

He swallowed several times trying to work the dryness from his throat. 

“Beacon Hills…California?”

“Yes…” Sean responded hesitantly.

“No fucking way,” he breathed. “That…That’s where my family moved.” Where they died.

There was a sharp inhale. 

“The house in the Preserve...There wasn’t much known about what happened. I hadn’t thought to connect the name because I didn’t know they were wolves.”

“Really? Your wolf friend never ran into Christopher Argent?”

“Allison’s dad? What does he have—oh my god! Her aunt and grandfather disappeared around that time. They were the Hunters?!”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. No, Allison and her parents moved away soon after. They never knew about Scott. Some other dipshits came through a while later, tried to intimidate some of Satomi’s pack — she’s the Alpha who helped Scott with the wolf stuff. She and most of her pack live in Nevada, but a few were attending the county college for their veterinary program and noticed there was another wolf around, thank God. It was a lot to deal with on our own, trying to find actual information and keep him secret and in control.”

While his mate recounted throwing lacrosse balls at his packless friend the memory of Peter’s last words flashed in his head. He gasped as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place.  

“Was your friend also Bitten around the same time?”

“Yeah, we never found out who—“

“I think it was my uncle. He was saying something about expanding the pack right before I…I didn’t know. His Alpha instincts must’ve had free rein to just attack some kid like that.”

“Holy shit,” Sean repeated.

“Holy shit,” Derek agreed. He knew he was going to dwell on this revelation for a good while, want to know all the details and about the new wolf, but he didn’t want to start that now. This time was for them. He shoved his train of thought back on track to where they’d left off.

“So those three Hunters…”

“I didn’t know I was being tracked, but I tried to be careful. Moved around, kept an eye on the weather to try to blend in with forecasted storms, but I’d have to put on a light show every so often when there weren’t any. Obviously they caught up to me when I stayed here so long...such beautiful scenery and all,” he said flirtatiously before getting serious again.

“Fuckers ran me right off the road. Tried to run me over really. I heard them behind me in time, but they followed me off the shoulder and destroyed my dirt bike right after I bailed. I had just saved up enough to get it before I came here too,” he hissed angrily. 

“I hurt my leg and side when I landed so I ducked into an old shed nearby to try to buy some time to heal more. They taunted me outside, wouldn’t listen to me. Said no one ever escaped a nogistune before so I must still be possessed, but that even if I wasn’t I’d be an abomination anyway.”

Derek growled from deep within his chest and nuzzled the younger man. Fucking Hunters and their genocidal bullshit.

“When two of them were getting closer to the door I got small and foxy and crept out a hole by the ground in back. I guess they didn’t realize that I could shift too, so it took the other one a few moments to notice and react. Then I was running into the field, trying to find cover as they shot after me. They kept coming and I couldn’t run at my usual speed, so…” He shrugged. “Boom.”

He tightened his hold on his mate. Killing was rarely pleasant even if it was necessary or well deserved and he knew the fox already carried so much guilt from the lives his body was forced to take. 

“It was self-defense.”

“I know. I mean I’m not happy about it, but I don’t exactly feel bad either, especially since I heard one of them mention coming back for you after ‘taking care of their fox problem.’”

Derek closed his eyes and shuddered. He’d figured as much, but it was another thing to hear it for sure. It didn’t matter that he was minding his own business and not a threat to anyone. He wasn’t human and so shouldn’t exist. 

“Thank you,” he said, throat tight.

“De nada, mate.” 

Mate. He was thrilled to hear it out loud for the first time. 

“Oh hey, what’s your name? Other than Hale?”

“Derek,” he replied, amused that they’d gone this long without bothering to ask. ”And what’s yours? Not actually Sean I assume?” 

“Well…it’s Myeh-cheh-swaf. But I go by Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” he said, voice low and syrupy, grinding into him again. Stiles giggled. 

“If you keep doing that we’re gonna be stuck out here forever, dude.”

“Not seeing the problem.” Derek grabbed an ass cheek and then gave it a playful spank. “And don’t call me ‘dude’. I ain’t been no city slicker in years,” he drawled with an exaggerated accent.

Stiles snorted and started squeezing his knot in retaliation, making Derek groan. He slipped a hand between them to feels where they were connected, trailing two fingers through the slick. The fox made a cute little noise.

“I have to say the whole, uh, getting wet thing was quite the surprise.”

“Mmm, I like it.”

“I can tell.” Derek could hear the smirk in his voice. “I bet you’ll be happy to know the first time it happened was the last time you came in to the store before things went to hell. You were all sweaty and dirty in that basically see-thru tank top looking like a walking wet dream. Then without any warning there was leaking happening. I froze and then ran to bathroom thinking I must’ve ate something off for lunch and was having some kind of problem.”

A belly laugh erupted out of Derek shaking them both. 

“I fell into a big muddy puddle trying to help some folks that were stuck. Took off my button-down to try to get the worst of the muck off and wiped myself down. I was annoyed as hell and lost in my head when I got there and then all of a sudden I smelled something amazing. Didn’t know what it was or where it was coming from.” 

“Yeah, that seems to be from my, uh, regular fox side. Which is totally a thing I just say now. Anyway, I kind of freaked out when I saw you turning and I guess I did something kitsune-ish so you wouldn’t notice me? But using my power meant the usual concealment stuff went away and you could smell my full scent. And, um, that.”

Ah, so that’s what happened. He refrained from mentioning his own freak out thinking he was either losing his mind or that something potentially bad was happening. The paranoia that ended up being warranted, but not because of him.

“It’s weird and I’m still getting used to it, but I have to admit it’s very convenient. I would’ve had to stop for lube or something last night otherwise.” 

Derek laughed more, imagining a glowing eyed Stiles followed by a miniature lightning storm stopping by the general store for some K-Y and Miss Ginny getting on the phone right after being all “I’m pretty sure the new boy down at RC is some kind of demon, but anyway I saw him buying a bottle of ‘you know what’ and I just have to wonder who for…”

“Mind sharing with the class?” Stiles asked curiously when he continued to crack himself up. Derek told him and then they were both dissolving into giggles, causing his now mostly soft cock and shrunken knot to finally slip out. Stiles made a soft whining sound and then stretched before turning toward him. They drank each other in face to face. 

“I figured you probably wouldn’t be small, and yeah, no way that was going in me dry, especially not having taken a cock before,” Stiles added, blushing, before snuggling up to him again.

Derek froze.

“Yeah, I’ve slept with some folks, but they all happened to be of the female persuasion. So, yeah. First guy.”

A pleased possessiveness flashed through him mostly — but not entirely — from his wolf, but then Derek frowned, feeling more than a little guilty.

“I was rough with you.”

Stiles pulled back to look him in the eye. “Again, I knew what I was getting into. Full moon, Alpha wolf. And I liked it. A whole lot.”

Derek hmmed. “And you’re not…hurt?”

“You weren’t that rough and I was, you know, ready for you. Sure, I was pretty sore at first right after because virgin ass plus knot even with everything, but just very slightly now. In a nice way. While my healing isn’t as fast as yours it’s still pretty quick.” 

He sighed in relief. 

“I guess I make up for it by running faster than you,” Stiles teased.

Derek huffed. “I seem to remember catching you.”

“I seem to remember letting you. Gotta stoke that Alpha ego.” 

There was no blip in the fox’s heart beat. That little shit. 

“Plus I wanted to get fucked already. You were…” Stiles sighed dreamily. “I wanted you so much.” 

Well then. 

“But if the Big Bad Wolf is still worried about traumatizing little ol’ me with an epic dicking and you want to give me an apology blow job or something to feel well and truly forgiven, I wouldn’t stop you…”

Derek laughed again. He’d already laughed more in past 10 minutes or so than he had in weeks. Laughed harder than in longer than he could remember. 

Agreeing that that was a great suggestion he rolled them over so that Stiles was on his back and then slid down his body, tasting the grass stained skin of his chest and abdomen and belly, venturing on until he reached his prize. Derek grasped the base of the still hardening cock and rumbled as he licked off the evidence of Stiles’ previous orgasm before he took it in his mouth and suckled the head. He was rewarded with louder moans of pleasure from his mate when he sunk further down, bobbing up and down shaft while reaching to fondle his balls with his other hand.

After a couple of minutes Derek gave the delicate sack one more squeeze and then moved his hand lower to gather slick from between soft inner thighs. The moans turned to gasps and when he pushed two fingers inside the fox’s quivering hole, jacking the shaft after pulling off to watch as his load trickled out along with fresh slick. Derek growled at the sight, thrusting faster and aiming for that sweet spot. 

When his mate was getting close he descended once more on the now leaking cock, continuing to finger him while engulfing him deep, until the tip was nestled in his throat. He made a humming sound and then Stiles was coming and crying out. Derek greedily swallowed his release and cleaned his cock until he was sensitive and whimpering. Grabbing him by the hips he then hoisted him up so that only his head and shoulders remained on the ground, tongue pressing against the furled entrance of the weakly moaning fox and lapping their mingled fluids until he was satisfied.

“Um, wow,” Stiles said breathlessly when he finally set him down.

“I want to fill you up again,” Derek rasped, his eyes a steady red as he kneeled between trembling thighs, stroking his own aching, eager cock. 

Stiles’ eyes flashed orange in response and he spread his legs wider, folding them up and holding himself exposed for Derek. So trusting and willing, this alluring and powerful creature who could blast him into next Tuesday, fry him to crisp and blow away the dust, but so readily submitted to him. Wanted him. His heart felt like it could burst. 

He crawled forward to bracket Stiles in his arms, leaving marks on his throat. Filling in some of those blank spaces that he couldn’t reach the last time. He rubbed his beard against the tanned skin, nuzzling and scenting him and when he couldn’t wait anymore he coated himself with slick and pushed in again with one steady motion, both of them moaning. Flush together and wrapped in heat, Derek closed his eyes and took a moment to just savor the feeling of being snug inside his mate. 

Affection and a sweet desire coursed through the bond and then Stiles was leaning up to kiss him, wrapping those long, strong legs around his waist. He started off slow and deep, rolling his hips sinuously as they explored each other’s mouths for the first time. Eventually he sped up, the fox’s writhing and little sounds spurring him on, and Derek held his gaze as he drove in faster and harder. 

Stiles’ eyes took on an eerie glow, the same one as before the chase. A darker shade than the previous flashing yet more shimmery. Uh-oh, here it co—

Lightning flashed high in the overcast sky, the boom of thunder only a split second behind. Startled, unhappy neighing sounded from the barn.

Derek shook his head at his sheepishly grinning mate. He adjusted his position to get use of an arm and hiked an ankle crossed at his lower back higher to rest over his shoulder. Then he spat in his hand and grasped Stiles’ cock now that enough time had passed to give his new favorite toy a break.

“Think you can manage to stop scaring my horses?” he asked with a smirk, jacking him. 

“Mmm…maybe with…the proper…motivation.” The pleasure drunk fox rubbed his other thigh against his side. Derek started thinking of all sorts of fun ways of training and testing his control. He nibbled at an earlobe and let go of his mate’s erection to twine their fingers together, pressing the backs of Stiles’ hands into the earth.

“Oh is that so?” 

“Mmhmm.”

He picked up the pace again and Stiles answered, rocking his hips in a matching rhythm. Hungrily they attacked each other with their mouths, licking, sucking, biting anywhere they could reach. The lightning ceased, but then it immediately started raining. 

Shaking with laughter they slowed but didn’t stop, grinding as the heavy droplets cooled their feverish skin. He took Stiles' face in both hands and kissed him deeply between giggles. As they ramped up again and his knot began to swell arms wrapped around to hook on his shoulders. It wasn’t long before claws were scratching down his back and when Stiles came he buried his fangs into Derek’s flesh, leaving a mating bite of his own between shoulder and neck. 

He whined from the delicious overload of sensations, thrusting erratically a half dozen times more before locking, teeth still embedded in him. Rain collected in the dips of their bodies and rivulets of water, sweat, blood, saliva, and cum ran off of them into the thirsty ground. 

When they were done — his knot going down more quickly the second round — they got up and ran naked and laughing toward the house, Stiles shifting halfway and taking off with a playful yip. Derek followed suit, howling as he tried and failed to close the distance. He was definitely gonna have to do some training himself, futile though it would probably be. If he could only arrange a chase long enough he bet that he could win on endurance. Wolves typically traveled much farther than foxes after all.

In the meantime, at least he knew his mate would take pity on him — or get horny enough — and let himself be caught sometimes. Not this time though.

When he reached the stoop at the side of the house the fox was casually lying there waiting for him with his tongue lolling out. Derek chuffed and nipped his muzzle before licking his right cheek and ear fondly. Little shit. Shifting back he turned the knob and held the door open for his mate to scamper into their home, following after with a grin bigger than the sky.

Come morning, miles along, gathered round, those remained. With bird in hand and a cry for the land, joy to gain.

We have all we need.

Thanks for reading!