Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2711426.

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M/M
Teen Wolf (TV)
Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Jackson
Whittemore, Kira Yukimura
Fake/Pretend Relationship, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are
Known, POV Stiles, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Alternate
Universe - No Hale Fire, Scent Marking, Comeplay, Grad Student
Derek, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Light Angst, Masturbation,
Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic,
Recreational Drug Use, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Mentioned
Kate Argent, Allison is not an Argent, Allison/Isaac - Freeform,
Marijuana
Part 2 of The Only Exception
Published: 2014-12-04 Words: 7556

Like Real People Do (The Only Exception, Part Two)

by alisvolatpropiis
Summary

Stiles gets it, he thinks, the wolf marking, claiming thing. Hes no wolf, but something in
him, something deep and primal-feeling, swells with pleasure at seeing his come on
Dereks skin, on his neck, that most sacred place for wolves. He reaches up and runs two
fingers through his mess, wants to feel its heat on Dereks skin, wants to rub it in so Derek
will smell like him well past the end date of their charade. Wants every werewolf Derek
meets to know that he bared his neck for him, let Stiles mark him.
Theyll never know it was fake.

Notes

*Yo lovely reader! This fic will def make a hell of a lot more sense if you read Part One
first.
*This series was originally going to be a two-parter, but I decided that we needed Stiles'
POV so this is part two of three now! Which means that there will be another installment,
but it also means that this is also kinda cliffhangery....don't hate me! There will be a very

happy ending, of course. And plenty more dickings, obvi.

Thank you so much reading and for your lovely comments! xoxo
~*~
Title from Hozier's "Like Real People Do."
The super awesome teamsciles made an awesome photoset for this fic!

See the end of the work for more notes

Stiles cracked his eyes open, breath catching in his throat as his sleepy gaze fell on the most
beautiful sight he had ever seen. There, in the middle of his messy bedroom, bathed in early
morning light, was the most gorgeous ass in existence. A perfect bubble, likely shaped by the
hand of god Herself, bare and supple, just an arms length away from him, begging to be kissed
and praised, fondled and worshiped. He stared, enraptured, still not fully awake, head thick with
an ache from last nights free wine. Maybe he was dreaming, he thought after a long moment,
although the exhaustion in his muscles and the pleasant soreness throughout his body felt very
real.
Above that perfect ass was an equally perfect back, strongly-flanked waist arcing up into broad,
muscled shoulders, a large black swirl tattoo between them. Derek, he remembered, starting to
wake up a bit, but with his new alertness came a more intense throbbing in his head, so he kept his
eyes as closed as he could while still watching that superb butt flex and flutter. Derek Hale, the
absurdly hot doctoral candidate and werewolf he somehow managed to hook up with last night at
the English departments beginning of the semester mixer for graduate students.
Stiles smiled into his pillow, proud that he landed the hottest guy in the department before classes
had even started, memories rushing back, realizing just exactly why he was so tired and his ass so
sore, why his skin was flaked with come. He remembered flashing blue eyes and snarling growls
that maybe should have scared him but that he found deeply, wildly erotic. His skin felt tender and
raw too, probably marked to hell with bites and hickies from Dereks insatiable mouth, stubble
burn from his rough cheeks. Sighing, Stiles rolled his hips down against the mattress, wanting
more.
Derek bent over then, and Stiles muffled a needy groan into his pillow when he saw the dark
swirls of hair between those exquisitely-shaped cheeks, his mouth watering. He wondered if
Derek would let him play with his ass, get his fingers inside of him, eat him out, make him come
with his tongue buried deep, maybe even fuck him. God, he hoped so. An ass that extraordinary
deserved to be devoured, and Stiles was confident in his hunger and his abilities.
He was just about to say as much when Derek stood back up, pulling on his jeans. In his hand
was the green sweater he was wearing last night, so tight it clung to his sculpted bulk, the color
making his absurd eyes glow like sunlit jade even from across the room, captivating, making
Stiles' jaw drop, which he hid by gulping at his wine. Derek pulled on his sweater, then began
looking around for his shoes.
Well nevermind then, he thought, closing his eyes all the way, ignoring his disappointment. Its not
like he expected Derek to spoon him all morning and take him out to brunch or whatever. But it
was barely sunrise and Stiles was pretty sure Dereks cock had made him see through space and
time, and well, he was hoping their first time together wasnt going to be their only time together.

This was fun, Derek said when he sat to pull on his socks and boots. His voice was rougher,
deeper than it seemed the night before. But its not going to happen again. Derek stood then and
stared down at him, those damn jeweled eyes narrow and harsh, like he was daring Stiles to
challenge him.
Yeah man, cool, he said, half into his pillow, squeezing it tight. Thanks for the good time.
He sunk back under his blankets and closed his eyes so he wouldnt have to watch Derek walk
out.
~*~
As the semester started and Stiles got to know his fellow grad students, no one said anything to
him about hooking up with Derek. Stiles didnt tell anyone, and apparently Derek didnt either.
Stiles vacillated between being impressed that Derek maybe respected him enough to not tell
everyone in the department about it, and being dejected, convinced that Derek kept it quiet
because hes embarrassed.
Its not like Stiles was looking for something serious. He just thought it would have been pretty
cool if he and Derek could hang out, grab dinner or beers together every once in awhile and talk
books and tv shows the way they had at the mixer, their witty, innuendo-filled banter its own kind
of foreplay.
Stiles had long known that he had a thing for weres; he had frequented werewolf porn sites long
before Scott was bitten and he had to branch out his werewolf research interests. He had dated a
couple werewolf guys in undergrad, bossy tops that had no problem using him roughly the way he
liked, but none of them had ever fucked him the way Derek had. It was dizzying and
overwhelming and so incredibly hot Stiles sometimes thinks he dreamed the whole night up.
Sex with Derek was a revelation, and he wanted more, but he quickly found out that wasnt likely
to happen. He asked around about Derek as casually as he could, and found plenty of people with
something to say about him. Turns out he was something of a celebrity in the department, and not
just because of his supermodel looks and outstanding scholarship (of course hes brilliant, Stiles
had thought ruefully, reading one of his published articles). Not only was he one of the few
werewolves, student or faculty, he was apparently the werewolf, which Stiles didnt find out until
after their one and only night together.
Basically werewolf royalty, Kira, a second-year poetry MFA, had told him over beers after their
class together. His great grandmother helped write the Lycanthropic Constitution. He doesnt talk
about his family much though. He actually doesnt talk to anyone all that much. Kira also told
him that Derek volunteers as a teaching assistant, refusing to accept the tuition remission and
stipend so another grad student who needs the funding can have it (of course hes a fucking saint).
Stiles vaguely remembered something about the Hale pack when he was researching werewolves
for Scott, but he hadnt paid much attention to anything then that wouldnt directly help him not
die on the next full moon. All it took now though was a quick google search to find plenty of
information about the Hales. Turns out Derek is a born wolf with a direct lineage that can be
traced back several hundred years to the British Isles, according to the Wikipedia page Stiles
found about Dereks mom, an LC senator. Almost all of the information was political and business
stuff the Hales were also insanely wealthy and well-connected, Kiras royalty comment not that
far off interesting enough, sure, but not what Stiles really wanted to know.
There was very little about the Hales personal lives, basic info about matings and kids, occasional
photos from official events that Derek never seemed to attend. Stiles learned that Derek has an

older and a younger sister, twin nephews, and a mess of aunts and uncles, the Hale pack one of
the biggest and most powerful on the West coast. Stiles was about to click away from the page
when he saw the last section of the article, just a short paragraph titled Assassination Attempt.
The fuck, he had muttered, lighting a joint. Katherine Argent, secret daughter of longimprisoned anti-werewolf extremist Gerard Argent, who had been declared a domestic terrorist
back in the eighties, had somehow gotten herself invited into the Hale family home in Beacon
Hills, poisoned them all with wolfsbane, and then tried to burn the house down with the entire
family, kids and humans included, inside.
Stiles double checked the date of the incident against the birthdays listed for Laura Hales twins,
figured that the boys, who had been in the house, had been barely more than newborns at the time.
Jesus, he muttered, puffing on the joint, anger rising. He knew there were ignorant racists out
there who hated werewolves, had gotten into more than one argument over the years with such
idiots, but he had never known anyone so hateful as to actually try to exterminate them, which
was the Argents stated intent.
The attempt was thwarted by Senator Hales son, Derek. Katherine Argent died in prison two
months later. Thats it. That was all the information given, and the news reports he found about
the incident offered precious little more; clearly, the Hales used their influence to keep the details
out of the press. There was a picture of Katherine Argent though, a photo taken in a hospital bed
that she was handcuffed to, bulky bandage on her neck, a sneer across what was probably a very
pretty face. She was unsettling, disgusting, and the whole thing, details scant as they were, made
his stomach sour at the hatred and violence. It also made him think about Derek in a new light,
about what he had done to protect his pack and how much self control it probably took for him not
to kill her. He would have been within his rights to, Stiles knew, from his research into LC law,
which put pack defense above all else.
It made Stiles wonder even more about Dereks quiet but undeniably powerful presence, the raw,
primal power coiled in every inch of his achingly beautiful body. His stern features, beautiful but
knife-edged, that seemed more and more like a cultivated mask, like armor, as their night together
went on, as Derek kissed Stiles body like it was something to be cherished even as he bruised
him with his too-strong hands.
But he knew he had to forget about him when more than person told him that Derek didnt date.
No one had ever known him to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, although his ability to pick up one
night stands seemed well-known. Don't get any ideas, Kira had teased. He never hooks up
with anyone in the department, and believe me, tons of people, men and women, have tried. Every
single one of them, shot down. Derek says he has a rule.
Stiles had grinned into his beer at that, trying to hide the warm rush of pride he felt, remembering
how easy it was to get Derek to come home with him.
~*~
As the semester went on and Stiles got busier with classes and teaching freshmen comp, busier
than he had ever been in undergrad, it became easier to push thoughts of Derek to the back of his
mind. Sometimes he would go days without thinking about him, but then he would catch a
glimpse of a tall guy with a dark beard or hear an ad on the radio for a werewolf dating site and
then hed be lost in daydreams and memories.
He looked up Dereks office location and his office hours, but talked himself out of going to see
him. He considered emailing too, or seeing if anyone he knew had his number, but all of that
seemed so deliberate. So obvious and needy. Stiles cringed at the thought of Derek thinking he
was a pathetic hook up who got too attached.

About halfway through the semester, he was in the grad lounge kitchen with Kira and Travis, one
of his officemates, taking turns heating up their lunches in the decrepit old microwave. You
coming out tonight? Travis asked, shooting Stiles a hopeful glance that hed been seeing more
and more often from him.
Whats going on?
The comp lit peoples weekly night out, Kira explained. Allison do you know her? Allison
Lahey. Shes a second year PhD anyways, she invited me, told me to bring whoever I wanted.
You should come, theyre a fun group, even though the bar they always go to kinda sucks.
And they talk about postcolonial theory way too much, Travis added, winking at Stiles, like
they had an inside joke or something. But it is pretty fun. You should come.
Sounds cool, he said carefully, stirring his leftover Thai takeout and putting it back in the
microwave. Ive never met Allison. Dont really know many people from comp lit. Who else is
usually there? He swallowed and kept his eyes on the spinning carton of food, working hard at
looking like he didnt have any real interest in the answer to his question.
Kira rattled off a bunch of names, some he recognized, some he didnt, none of them the one he
was looking for. Allisons husband Isaac comes sometimes. Hes in the Chemistry department,
and hes a werewolf. Hes good friends with Derek Hale, so hes there sometimes too.
He was there last week, Travis chimed in, handing Stiles his lunch and putting his own in the
microwave. Stiles didnt make anything of Travis interest in talking about Derek, knew by then
that any Derek sighting was something of a hot topic.
He was? Kira asked. I didnt see him.
You got there late. He had already left, with some hot twink undergrad.
Stiles dropped his fork, swearing as it clattered across the floor.
Of course he did, Kira said. That dude is walking sex, she sighed appreciatively.
You have no idea, Stiles thought, setting his food down and turning to the sink to wash his fork,
trying to ignore the souring twist of jealousy and anger. He had no claim on Derek, and absolutely
no reason to feel this way, he reminded himself, forcing himself to rejoin the conversation still
going on behind him.
Why is he getting a doctorate anyways, Travis mused, pushing his glasses up his nose. If I
looked like him, my life would be constant sex. Id be living it up as a model or making a fortune
in porn, not getting a PhD.
Travis praise of Dereks beauty only made the inappropriate jealousy worse, but still, Stiles
couldnt help but silently agree. Based on looks alone, Derek would certainly excel at either
career.
Hes already rich, Kira reminded Travis. Derek Hale of the Hales, remember?
Travis made a noise of disgust. So not fair.
So Stiles, Kira said, turning back towards him. Well see you tonight?
Yeah, he answered, squaring his shoulders, telling his jealousy to shove it. This was what he

was waiting for, a chance to casually to run into him again. Well see who Derek goes home with
tonight, he had thought, hopeful, excited.
~*~
But Derek wasnt there when Stiles arrived at the bar, and then he didnt show up at all. As the
night went on Stiles kept drinking, which only made his morose staring at the door more obvious,
he was sure. It didnt seem to matter to Travis though, who was practically in his lap by the time
Stiles was finishing his seventh beer.
He should have gone home with him. He needed to feel someone elses hands on his body to
brush away the ghost of Dereks touch, put the damn wolf out of his mind once and for all. He
was probably just fixated on the great sex, after all. He just needed to get laid again and he could
go back his normal, pre-Derek Hale existence.
He didnt go home with Travis though. He peeled away from his grasp, smiling awkwardly at his
disappointed face, paid his tab and said a few quick goodbyes before stumbling out of the bar to
his bus stop, sucking in the cool night air to clear his head, skin hot from the booze but still
shivering.
When he got home, he wasted no time locking himself away in his room, pulling up one of his
favorite werewolf-human vids and jacking off hard and fast, slicking up his fingers and shoving
two in roughly, drunk enough to barely feel the burn. Naked, he crawled onto all fours, trying to
get a better angle, remembering how good it felt to be on his hands and knees for Derek.
He had fingered himself open that night, just like this, Derek on his knees on the bed behind him,
watching, grunting in pleasure, hand at his big, uncut cock. Derek had pulled his fingers from his
ass without warning and replaced them with his own, and if that wasnt enough to make him
groan and buck in surprised delight, he had also brought Stiles wet fingers to his mouth, sucking
hard and loud, moaning. Barely watching the video now, Stiles fingered himself harder, thinking
about that moment and so many others: the way Derek growled when he finally pushed in, how
his eyes flashed blue and he bit Stiles neck every time he bared his throat for him, how good it
felt when Derek pulled out and unloaded sizzling hot bursts that drenched his sweaty back. Stiles
cried out when he came all over his sheets, falling asleep soon after, head spinning.
~*~
He gives up hoping to see Derek again after that night, throws himself into his work with such
single-minded focus he barely notices the passage of the next several weeks. Thanksgiving comes
and goes with little fanfare, and the next thing he knows its finals week. He finishes all of his
grading early and the final revision for his fiction workshop, leaving just his seminar paper for Dr.
Morrells post-postmodernism class. Hes close to having a finished draft, but hes going a little
stir crazy after three straight days cooped up in his office with his library books and Travis forlorn
glances.
Stiles gathers up his laptop and a few books and walks in the rain to a coffee shop just off campus.
Hes waiting for his order, scanning the crowded room, just about to ask the barista to make his
coffee to go when he spots Derek on the far side of the caf, sitting alone at a table by the
window. Stiles breath catches in his throat and his palms feel sweaty, chest tightening with
excitement and nerves.
Its strange, finally seeing Derek after three months of trying to remember the exact details of his
pristine features. He looks at once the same and very different, Stiles memory of him quickly
reconciling with this new, updated version. Dereks wearing a thick-knit sweater, dark purple
purple, for the love of god and his scruff, which had just been long enough to rough up Stiles

pale skin, is a full beard now. Its night-black and luxurious like his hair, which is longer too,
sticking up messily, even curling a bit at the back of his neck.
He looks soft, and Stiles feels very, very warm.
Dereks got expensive-looking headphones around his neck and hes slouched back in his chair,
typing away at a Macbook, seemingly oblivious to Stiles presence. The barista calls out his coffee
and Stiles picks up the steaming mug, still trying to calm his heartbeat as he walks over to him,
biting his lip when he sees Dereks eyes up close again, sparkling bluer than he remembered.
Derek, he calls out, steadying himself by leaning on the empty chair across from him, unable to
stop his smile when Derek finally, thankfully, looks at him again.
~*~
Jackson and Lydia are over when he gets home from his dinner with Derek, lounging around the
living room with Scott, passing a pipe around and watching Parks and Rec. Stiles pauses it and
falls next to Scott on the couch. So, I just agreed to pretend to be Derek Hales boyfriend.
Lydia, who finished undergrad in three years and whos in the second year of her masters in
mathematics, looks up from the thick textbook shes reading, curled up in the big recliner next to
the couch. Start at the beginning, sweetie, she says, passing him the pipe.
Stiles accepts it gratefully and explains as best he could, leaving out the few details Derek had
given him about why he didnt date. Kate, Derek had said, a woman I dated a long time ago. It
didnt end well. His face was closed off and severe when he told him, obviously not wanting to
discuss it any further. Stiles felt a hollow dread when he put it all together, realizing with how
Katherine Kate Argent got into the Hale house. He didnt tell Derek that he knew about the
attempted murder of his family, didnt reach over to take his hand in a vain gesture of comfort like
he wanted to. Instead he had changed the subject to get that pained look off Dereks face, and he
seemed grateful for it.
So, youre going to move in with Derek for a week so you can better lie to one of the most
powerful alphas in the country, Jackson asks when Stiles is done explaining, eyebrows skeptical,
conveying just how idiotic he thinks Stiles is.
Basically, he answers. Derek seems to think it will work, if we do the scent mixing right.
Hey, Scott says, smiling and hitting him in the chest. Youre getting what you want, sex with
Derek again.
He said we shouldnt have sex again, he says quietly, still not sure exactly why Derek is against
them fucking again. He said that it would complicate things. Whatever that means.
Scott patted his shoulder and smiled sympathetically. Sounds like maybe he was trying to let you
down easy, buddy. Im sorry.
From his spot on the floor at Lydias feet, Jackson cackles. Damn, Stilinski. He wants you to
pretend to be his mate but he doesnt want to fuck you again? Must suck to be that weird looking
and bad in bed. Lydia slaps him on the side of the head without looking up from her book.
Boyfriend, not mate, Stiles corrects him. And blow me, Whittemore, he adds, getting up to
leave the room.
Someones gonna have to, Jackson, yells at his back. Your rich pretty boy wolf isnt going to,
thats for sure.

In his room, Stiles digs a bag out from his bed, and begins sorting through his piles of clothes on
the floor, grabbing enough for the next week, figuring hell be able to come back and pack better
before he and Derek leave for California. Hes muttering to himself, about Jackson mostly, whose
parents bought him the bite when he turned eighteen, and he has the gall to call Derek a rich pretty
boy wolf? At least Derek was born a werewolf, and isnt flashy about his wealth like Jackson, the
Porsche-driving douche.
Scott appears at his door, tossing him the pipe and lighter, a fresh bowl loaded, scooping up a
baseball from the floor and flopping onto Stiles bed. He lies on his back and tosses the ball in the
air a few times, catching it easily. Why are you doing this, Stiles? he asks finally.
Stiles responds sharply, Im in a position to help him, so Im helping him." He takes a hit and
shoves clothes into the bag.
But thats not the only position you want to be in. Scott grins and wiggles his eyebrows at him,
reaching for the pipe.
Youre hilarious, Scotty boy.
I know. Doesnt change the fact that youre totally doing this because you want to bone Derek
again.
Well, yeah, of course I do. Hes fucking hot. Youre the straightest guy I know and Im pretty
sure you would fuck him if he looked at you twice.
You showed me that one picture of him you found online. His eyebrows are confusing. And
does he really think youll be able to pull this off without having sex?
He seems to think so. Why, you think we cant?
I mean, Im sure he knows more about all this than I do, but, yeah, wolves notice the smell of sex
on people, on couples especially. You smelled like Derek for a week after you two hooked up,
dude. Its unmistakable. I think a pack of born wolves will definitely notice if you guys dont
smell like sex.
Stiles throws the half-full duffel on the floor and flops on to his bed next to Scott, sighing. He had
been thinking as much, and Scott confirming it didnt help his confusion. Why would Derek risk
this not working, desperate as he seemed for it to? Theyve already had sex, so its not like it
would be all that weird if they did again. Just the opposite in fact, so what the hell? He offered to
pay me, he tells Scott, not wanting to talk about Dereks no-sex rule anymore.
No shit? How much?
I dont know, I didnt let him get that far. The idea of getting paid for it feels really weird.
Scott catches the ball and stares at him for a moment. Even if you dont have sex again?
Yeah.
Scotts quiet again, the only sound in the room the smack of the ball against his palm as he tosses
and catches it. Stiles, he says cautiously.
Yeah?
Do you like like Derek? Like more than just want to have sex him again because hes hot?

Stiles sighs. He thinks about the way Derek growled and at nuzzled at his neck their first night
together, before they had even gotten in the front door. He thinks about how, that night, between
their second and third round, Derek dozed off and Stiles got up to get water, and when he came
back into his room, he stood by the bed and stared at him for a minute, struck by his beauty, by
how gentle and calm he looked in sleep. He thinks about how disappointed he was when Derek
didn't show at the bar, and how excited he was when he saw him in the coffee shop today. He
thinks about the way Derek teasingly growled and flashed his eyes when he caught Stiles
watching him, the look of disbelief, followed by cautious hope when he agreed to help him lie to
his family. Stiles thinks about the twist in his gut when Derek said he didn't want to have sex with
him again, how it was even worse when Derek offered him money, because this is just a business
transaction to him. He thinks about how he doesn't care if it is, because he wants to help Derek, no
matter what it takes. Leave it to Scott to say what Stiles hasnt been wanting to admit to himself.
Yeah, I think maybe I do, he answers finally, quietly.
So why dont you tell him? Ask him out for real. Itll make lying to his family easier.
The thought had crossed his mind more than once during his dinner with Derek, talking about the
best ways to lie to a pack of werewolves. But once he realized what happened with Kate, why
Derek refused to date, the guilt and betrayal he must have felt, probably still feels, Stiles knew
getting Derek to date him for real would be impossible. Derek is protecting himself by keeping
people at arms length, and it's ridiculous to think that he would lower his defenses for Stiles, who
he barely knows. And Stiles wouldnt just get rejected, which would totally fucking suck, but
Derek would also definitely call off their plan and where would that leave him?
If I tell him, he wont let me help him, and then what? He ends up mated to someone he doesnt
want to be with?
Instead of you?
He scoffs. Yeah, like the crown prince of the Hale pack who is so anti-relationship he was willing
to pay someone to help him trick his family, is going to want to get mated to Stiles Stilinski. Scott,
come on. I dont want to be his mate. I just think hes a good guy and I just want to help him out,
okay? So I have a crush. Yeah, dating him would be cool, but that's it. It's not a big deal.
Scott gives him another long, puppy-eyed look before sitting up suddenly, slapping him on the
thigh. Come on. Lydia already has a bunch of ideas for how you and Derek met. And she says
you need to think of nicknames.
"Got that one covered."
~*~
Stiles tries not to act too impressed with Dereks place, a freakin' houseboat on Lake Union. It's
one of the smaller ones, probably not one of the million dollar ones, but still. It's gorgeous, big
windows with a stunning view of the lake and the city and an entire wall of built-in bookshelves,
with sleek but comfortable furniture, everything very neat and sparse.
Derek seems agitated when Stiles first gets there, obviously nervous about having someone new in
his territory. Stiles wants to calm him down, so he doesnt make a big deal about his place, just
teases him about nicknames but fights the urge to chatter endlessly like he often does when
nervous, not wanting to irritate Derek or accidentally say something about his maybe-not-so-small
crush. Instead he scopes out Dereks books, studies a photo of Dereks sister and her identical
twin boys, their wolf-eyes flaring slightly at the cameras flash, but not enough to obscure the
resemblance to their uncle, making Stiles wonder about Derek at that age, if he had been as
serious and stern as a child as he is as an adult. Stiles puts the frame down he hadnt realized

hed picked it up very aware of Dereks steely gaze on him.

Derek seems to relax quickly, frowns adorably when Stiles is confused about the drawer he
cleaned out for him, the space he cleared in his closet. But seriously, what the hell? Stiles can
barely remember the last time he did laundry, let alone fold and hang up his clothes. But Derek
seems like the type of person who puts his clothes in hotel room dressers, so Stiles rolls with it,
flushing with embarrassment and silently vowing to do laundry first thing tomorrow when Dereks
nostrils flare as his clothes spill out of his bag.
He settles in when Derek goes to take a shower, getting comfortable on his big couch, thinking
about fake dates and fake boyfriend pictures and cute stories that will convince a pack of wolves
theyve been dating for months.
But mostly he thinks about how mouth-watering Derek looks his in sweaty running clothes,
basketball shorts low on his hips, sleeveless t-shirt clinging to his pecs.
How is the hell is he going to get through this without having sex with him again?
And even if he wasn't kinda dying to kiss him again, Stiles would still think its a bad idea to try
and pull this off without sex, especially after what Scott told him. Maybe Derek feels weird
because he thinks hed be taking advantage of Stiles, or pressuring him, because of their
arrangement? The more he dwells on it, waiting for Derek to get out of the shower, the more that
starts to make sense.
The shower shuts off, and Stiles smiles. All he has to do then, is reassure Derek that he wants to
have sex with him, and hell, that wont be difficult at all. There are a lot of things hes going to
have to get good at lying about in the next week, but wanting Derek is most definitely not one of
them.
~*~
The next time he wakes to Dereks bare ass, Stiles is certain hes dreaming.
Its just too perfect.
Its closer this time, a lot closer, because his pillow is Dereks muscled back, and hes peering
down the slope of it to the graceful, glorious swell of that ass that he still hasnt gotten to explore
to his liking. Derek is still asleep, face buried in a pillow, back rising and falling steadily under
Stiles cheek and the little puddle of drool hes left near his bottom rib.
He wants to move to wipe it up, because ugh, drooling on a guys back is so not sexy, but he
doesnt want to wake Derek yet. For the scent, he thinks, leaving it there, huffing softly, wincing
at the memory of last night and his pathetic attempt to hide his blatant need for Dereks affection
after they fucked. Derek had said it first, but of course it made sense when he did it, rubbing his
come into Stiles skin. Stiles isnt the expert here, but hes fairly certain thats some pretty good
scent mixing. No need for him to force Derek into cuddling him, curling against him like hes a
goddamn teddy bear, making Derek put his arm around him.
Stiles just couldnt help it. He was sex-dazed and overwhelmed with how good Derek felt on him,
in him so full and deep, touching him in ways that made his body feel brand new and alive, his
kisses making him feel weak and exhilarated all at once, eyes unnerving and fiercely bright as he
fucked him, relentless. It was only natural, instinct, to want to still be close to Derek after that,
especially given the lie theyre trying to build, right?
He was thrilled when seducing Derek proved nearly as easy as the first time. Even though Dereks

feelings and motivations remain obscure and confusing, Stiles is at least reassured that Derek is
attracted to him.
But Stiles was an idiot, and he let it get the best of him, let himself get too caught up in it, let his
feelings show in the heat of the moment. Exhausted, relieved that Derek seemed okay with
cuddling, for the scent, but still worried he had revealed too much, he muttered something to cover
his ass, to remind Derek that he knew it was fake. He fell asleep almost as he was still speaking,
hoping it worked.
Stiles closes his eyes against Dereks warm skin. If this were real, he would kiss his way down
Dereks spine, gently, waking him slowly with his tongue, worship at the altar of his godly
beauty, eat him out until he cries. But this isnt real, and Stiles needs to remember that before he
goes and ruins Dereks life by screwing this up.
Hey, a sleep-thick voice says from above, Derek shifting underneath him. You okay? Derek
half turns onto his side, looks down at him, eyes partly closed and hair an adorably wild mess.
Stiles rolls back from him a bit, adjusting the blankets. Huh?
Your heart is pounding and you smellanxious. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?
Hurt me? No, of course not. He moves up the bed so hes facing Derek, both of them lying in
their sides now, still naked. Stiles is cold now that hes no longer pressed against the furnace of
Dereks body. Iuh, was worried about you. That you might be regretting this.
Dereks kiss is hard and urgent, surprising him. I dont have any regrets, he reassures him,
reaching up like hes going to pet Stiles cheek, but lets his hand fall to his shoulder instead. This
helps our story. His voice is even, unreadable, but his body, which Stiles understands quite well
already, arches closer to his, his stiff cock brushing across Stiles belly, making them both shudder
a little.
So, uh, youre up for another round then, Stiles asks, returning his hand to Dereks skin, tracing
his fingers down his rock hard abs, swooping over his hip to clutch tentatively at his ass.
Derek closes his eyes, wide mouth creeping into a gentle smile. I remember you saying
something about wanting me to come in your mouth. His voice is breathy and low, hungry.
Stiles laughs, his own cock rising more, earlier anxiety about Derek his too-obvious affection
dissipating with each brush of Dereks hand along his spine. You remember that, huh,
Wolfman?
Derek nuzzles at his neck, scenting and nibbling on his earlobe. Wolfman? What happened to
Sourwolf?
Stiles feels his eyes go wide with surprise, excitement rising, licking his lips, dying to suck Derek
off, to feel all of his hot come slide down his throat and coat his mouth. Sourwolf? Howd you
know about Sourwolf? That one was a secret.
You said it last night.
I did?
Yeah, right before you fell asleep. Derek tenses up for a moment, but Stiles must imagine it,
because hes back to relaxed and horny in a moment.
Oh. He knows hes blushing, hides it by kissing Dereks neck. Thats, uh, actually what I

called you in my head, that first night we met. Before we actually met, you know. When I was just
staring at you from across the room.
Oh yeah? You really knew that quickly that I was a wolf?
I told you dude, I am like, the wolf whisperer. Stiles kisses down his chest, rubbing his cheeks,
rough with a few days worth of stubble, through his dark, silky chest hair. He moves to push
Derek on to his back but hes too slow, or maybe Dereks too fast, because suddenly Stiles is on
his back, falling against the soft mattress with a dull thump, Derek hovering over him.
Derek kisses the confused noise off his lips, tonguing into his mouth until theyre both breathless.
He works his mouth and his beard down Stiles torso, licking and kissing, pulling skin between
his blunt human teeth and biting softly, looking up to meet his eyes, grinning, when Stiles moans
and bucks underneath him. Derek settles between his legs and nuzzles at the base of his cock,
hands gentle on his thighs. Stiles hisses and twitches when his big fingers grace lightly across his
tender rim. Sore?
Stiles smiles dreamily, remembering in vivid detail how he got the dull, throbbing ache in his ass.
Lil bit, he answers, rolling his hips, trying to press against Dereks fingers. We can still, you
know. Maybe just, uh, go a little easier on me this time?
Derek shushes him actually shushes him, the adorable weirdo and settles his fingers more
solidly around his ass, making Stiles cock twitch against his beard. Derek isnt moving, is just
watching Stiles face, inscrutable expression on his own. Stiles is about to ask him what hes
doing when his gaze is drawn by a slight movement, snaking black lines working their way up
Dereks forearm, disappearing into the crook of his elbow. Wha he starts to ask, but sputters
off when he feels the throbbing mellow and then dissipate altogether, soreness replaced with a
calm, glowing warmth. That is amazing, Stiles murmurs, unsure if hes more affected by
Dereks powerful pain-leaching or the fact that hes thoughtful enough to take his pain at all,
minimal as it was. Ycan definitely fuck me now, Sourwolf. Stiles is tangling his fingers in
Dereks hair, impossibly silky smooth and soft, fingertips gentling over the hard contours of his
skull.
Derek shushes him again before he swallowing his cock down, still looking up at him, still
grinning.
~*~
When Stiles starts to come, Derek pulls off, giving him his neck to spill all over. Body thrumming,
panting, he yanks Derek up, grappling awkwardly at his obscenely muscled shoulders, biting his
lip so he doesnt say anything stupid. He catches Dereks red mouth in a bruising kiss, pushing at
his shoulders now, trying to get him to roll over.
Derek snorts a laugh into his jaw and lets Stiles roll him onto his back, settling back against the
pillows and spreading his legs wide for Stiles to sit between, cock flushed and shiny with his thick
precome, begging to be sucked. Even though its beckoning at him so, making his mouth water
with how badly he wants to get his mouth on him, Stiles tears his eyes away to look back up at
Dereks neck, muscled and strong like the rest of him, glistening with his come.
Stiles gets it, he thinks, the wolf marking, claiming thing. Hes no wolf, but something in him,
something deep and primal-feeling, swells with pleasure at seeing his come on Dereks skin, on
his neck, that most sacred place for wolves. He reaches up and runs two fingers through his mess,
wants to feel its heat on Dereks skin, wants to rub it in so Derek will smell like him well past the
end date of their charade. Wants every werewolf Derek meets to know that he bared his neck for
him, let Stiles mark him.

Theyll never know it was fake.

Stiles closes his eyes and moves down Dereks body, overwhelmed and sad in a way he pushes
from his mind. Derek makes a grab for his hand, the one still messy with his come, and pulls his
fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking.
It makes Stiles groan as he circles the head of Dereks cock with his tongue, bittersweet precome
making his mouth water. He wants to destroy Derek with his mouth, wants to lick and suckle and
swallow him down until hes gasping, wants to make Derek fall apart the way he makes him, even
just a little.
It seems like maybe its working, judging by the way Dereks breathy moans are getting more and
more urgent, hands tighter in Stiles hair, pulling slightly. Their first time together, when his hair
was shorter, barely more than buzzed, Derek had been frustrated that he couldnt get a good grip
on it. Stiles smiles around his cock, glad that hes let it grow out.
Emboldened, he slips off his cock and wets a finger with his spit, reaching down under Dereks
full, heavy balls. Can I? he asks, brushing softly against his cleft, downy with soft hair. I can
make you feel so good Derek, I promise.
Fuck, yes, Dereks voice is low and scratchy and he spreads his legs wider, rolls his hips up.
Ive thought about your fingers, he mumbles shyly, like hes telling him a secret.
Pleased, fucking delighted, Stiles watches Dereks face as he teases his tight muscle with the tip of
his finger, pressing in slowly, pushing farther when he sees the blissed out grin on Dereks face,
the quickened flutter of his dark lashes. He gets another spit-slick finger in him, so hot and tight
Stiles cant help but think about what it would be like to plunge his cock into him, feel that hole
swallow him up and clench around his dick. Groaning, he returns his mouth to Dereks cock,
working his tongue and his lips and bobbing up and down, fucking his tight hole steadily with his
fingers, reaching deep and curling to tease at his prostate, massaging gently before pulling off,
making Derek writhe and pant.
He starts to thrust up into his mouth then, small, controlled little ruts at first, faster and harder when
Stiles nods and smiles, encouraging, stretching his mouth wider, focusing on opening his throat
more, breathing through his mouth. His eyes are starting to water and spit and precome is
dribbling from the corners of his mouth and hes pretty sure the back of his throat might be bruised
by the time this is done, but fuck, hes loving every perfect moment of it.
Stiles works his fingers harder, buried to the last knuckle, keeps at it when Dereks hips still on the
upthrust, cock shoved deep into his mouth. Stiles swallows deliberately, tightening his muscles
around his head, the first thick spray of come slipping down his throat easily. Derek is muttering
curses and Stiles thinks his eyes are glowing blue, and maybe hes growling too, and fuck yes,
Stiles is totally the wolf whisperer.
Derek pulls back a bit so the next few bursts of come puddle onto Stiles tongue, so much so fast
his mouth already feels full, and fuck, Dereks not done, still unloading, across Stiles lips now,
painting his face with a final ribbon of white before his body goes limp, chest heaving.
Jaw aching, Stiles looks up at Derek and swallows again, mouth thick with the bittersweet taste of
him. Derek hauls him up by the arms and pulls him into a soft, sloppy kiss, grunting and grinning,
licking at each other until both of their faces are shiny with Dereks come. For the scent, Stiles
thinks.
They lie side-by-side for a bit, not touching or talking, contently basking in the afterglow. Stiles is
surprised when Derek finally speaks again, having thought he had fallen back asleep. I need to

work on my diss for awhile, he says, sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, pausing for a
moment before standing. But this afternoon we can do something. Maybe one of those fake dates
you were talking about? For the pictures?
Yeah, sounds good to me, big guy. Stiles is glad Dereks back is turned toward him, both so he
can stare unabashedly again at his ass, and so he doesnt see his answering smile, which he hides
in the pillow anyways.
He knows its fake, knows that he wouldnt be spending the day with Derek, wouldnt have
woken up in his bed this morning, or probably ever, if it werent under the condition that it all
means nothing. But that doesnt stop his excitement, or stop him from thinking that this is how
their first morning together should have gone.
And every morning since, he thinks, and thats when Stiles realizes that he might be a little bit in
love with Derek Hale.

End Notes

To be continued......

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