Chapter Text
--The Present, 5 years after the last chapter--
"Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, sir.” The words fall easily from Derek’s lips, and he almost wants to cry at how good they feel. How good it feels to be kneeling in front of Stiles, his hands clasped - though not bound, they’re not there, yet - behind him. That yet is his hope.
--First Hug--
“Can I travel your road with you?”
Derek’s mind hitches as his fingers tighten their grip on Stiles’ arm. He can feel the connection between them, the fate magic working through them, as he nods.
“I’d like to be your friend, if you don’t mind...this.” Stiles gestures toward the panel of monitors showing various rooms of the kink club. “I mean. You never have to come back here if you don’t want. We could meet up at Starbucks or something. Or I could cook you dinner at my place. Or we could go for a walk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
The tumult of Stiles’ words make him want to smile again, and laugh, like there are little streaks of sun finally breaking through the darkness that has been his life. “I- uh, that would be good. To meet not here, I mean. I’d like that.”
Stiles sort of cough-laughs, then wipes at his eyes. “I can’t believe- I mean. God, I’m such a sap. Like I spent most of my life telling myself that I’d never find you and that would be okay, and here you are, and you somehow don’t hate me even though you have every right to avoid me. I just- just give me a second.” He sniffles, and somehow seeing this Dom be so vulnerable melts everything inside of Derek.
If I’d known this is what it felt like, I’d have seen right through Kate, he thinks, and the thought has him frowning once again. He squeezes Stiles’ arm and releases it, pushing to his feet. Still, he takes out his phone and unlocks it. “Text yourself so I have your number, okay?”
Stiles’ movements are a flurry of activity that makes Derek want to laugh, which sets him to frowning once more.
Kate had been...enticing. Forbidden, almost. She’d been formidable, and penetrating, and she’d taken all of him.
Stiles… Stiles cried because he found Derek.
“Can I hug you?” Stiles asks as he hands his phone back.
Stiles cried because he found me. “I- Uh. Yes. Please.”
Stiles stands, wrapping his arms around Derek. It’s warm, and he doesn’t try to cop a feel or touch anywhere Derek hadn’t given permission to. Nothing beyond the parameters of a normal hug.
It feels- glorious, is the only word Derek can think of. Like he wants to never stop touching Stiles ever again. From the little noise Stiles makes, he can tell Stiles is feeling the same thing.
It’s that feeling that has him easing away, has him heading toward the door. “Will you keep an eye on my sister? I’ll text her I’m leaving, but...”
“Of course. Does that mean I can pull her aside and lecture her about bringing in someone with obvious triggers and then leaving them behind? Because family means no one gets left behind, Derek.” Stiles lips quirk, and he gives Derek a wink.
“It’s not her fault, mostly. I insisted. I- I thought maybe I was over it. But I’m not.”
“That’s okay.” Stiles’ fingers brush over his own First Words as he continues to smile at Derek. “I’ll walk you out. I can take you the back way, make sure you don’t get triggered again, okay?” He holds out his hand.
“Thanks,” Derek murmurs as he takes it, that warm feeling filling him up again.
--The Present--
“You’re so good for me, Derek.” Stiles’ fingers drift through his hair, tumbling it.
The thing is, it’s not easy for Derek to believe. After Kate, after he so easily fell under Kate’s sway, believed the horrible things she said about him, believed that wanting this, wanting to sub, made him a wicked human being with disgusting wants that needed to be beaten out of him...after all of that, he’d steeled his heart against anything any Dom could ever say to him again. Derek hopes that someday, in the future, his first inclination when Stiles praises him won’t be, “Oh, he’s just saying that to manipulate me.”
But then Stiles murmurs, “I love you so much,” as he leans down to kiss Derek’s forehead, and that far off someday seems just a little closer.
--First Kiss--
“You didn’t!” Stiles lets his head fall back to the sofa, cackling.
“The guy shouldn’t have been skipping out on his custody,” Derek replies with a shrug, though the corners of his lips tip up. He’s come to love this time, this soulmate time that they’ve set aside each week just for each other. And sure, at first it was mostly because of the whole thing about how soulmates being near each other can lower blood pressure, reduce anxiety, help with depression, the whole nine yards. But Derek has come to love this time just so he can have this: Stiles’ feet in his lap, Derek painting his toenails a bright pink as he regails Stiles with whatever crazy story happened to him that week as a PI.
They’re full of Thai food, fat and sassy, his mom would’ve said. And Derek’s having a hard time remembering when he’s had a better time in recent years.
“And he’s going to pay up now?”
“Oh yeah.”
“And I bet you didn’t even charge your client, you big softie.”
Derek just blushes, and Stiles pokes his stomach with his toes. “Big softie, I knew it.”
“Hey, watch it, you’re not dry yet.”
“You know, if I didn’t know about the whole ‘Hales being independently wealthy’ thing, I’d say you run your PI business like you’re trying to run it into the ground.”
Derek gives a small shrug, still blushing. “The corporate stuff more than makes up for the little side jobs I take so that a single mom can get the money she needs to buy her kid school clothes.” He blows on Stiles’ toes, which makes Stiles laugh, and moves his feet to the coffee table. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you. Emily’s going to get a kick out of them.” For all intents and purposes, Emily is Stiles’ niece, though not by blood or marriage. But Scott is basically Stiles’ brother, so yeah.
“Always happy to help.”
“Thanks,” Stiles says again, automatically brushing a kiss over Derek’s cheek, and then freezing, eyes wide. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even ask, I’m the motherfucking worst- oh my god-”
Derek jolts when he realizes Stiles is having a mini-meltdown over kissing him. His cheek, no less. “Whoa, hey, Stiles, stop freaking out.”
“No, I should have-”
“You’re making me feel like a leper.”
“You’re not a leper, you’re-” Stiles stops, deflated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Or any way. Any way that isn’t a safe, happy feeling.”
“I don’t mind if you kiss my cheek,” Derek says, because he truly doesn’t. Kate never would have kissed his cheek, anyway, and besides, it’s Stiles. “Listen, I know consent is your paramount thing, and I think that’s great, but I give you permission not to self-flagellate over this, unless that’s your thing.”
It’s a weak attempt at a joke, and Stiles gives him a small smile, but it converts back into a concerned frown almost immediately. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Frustrated, words spill out of Derek’s mouth. This almost never happens; he had always been a circumspect person, and his experience with Kate only made him more so. “Yes, Stiles, I’m fine. You didn’t attack me. It was a gesture of kindness. I’m capable of telling the difference, you know. Besides, why would I be upset at you kissing me? Like I haven’t been wanting to kiss you for weeks-”
He manages to cut himself off, but not before that vital confession slips out. And it’s not like it isn’t true. Stiles has been entering his thoughts more and more recently. Stiles in various states of dress. Stiles’ lips brushing over his. Stiles’ cheek pressed against his own.
“You, um, you want to run that one by me again?” Stiles asks, sitting up straighter.
Derek licks his lips unconsciously. “Can I kiss you?”
“Oh, fuck yes.”
Derek’s lips are tipping up again, that little smile Stiles always brings out of him, as he leans down to brush their lips together. Stiles makes no move on his own - because Stiles won’t, unless Derek invites him, he’s made that abundantly clear over the last year - but Derek can’t help slipping a hand behind Stiles’ head and drawing them closer together.
When he pulls back, Stiles’ eyes are still closed, and Derek’s hand is still cupping the back of his head. The thought flits through his mind that this scenario, his Dom allowing him this much control, would never have happened with Kate. The fact that Stiles doesn’t appear too perturbed to have given up that control says mountains about him.
Derek’s not so sure about his own feelings, though. He likes that he controlled the kiss - and yet he craves going under, and being taken care of by someone as sweet and loving as Stiles obviously is. By his soulmate, his real, actual soulmate.
“I should get going,” Derek murmurs instead.
Stiles springs back, nodding. “Yeah, it’s getting late, and the fog. And they said it might get below freezing tonight and you know that freezing fog just creates black ice and everyone goes way too fast and doesn’t respect nature, you know, and seriously, it’s not your driving I’m worried about, it’s everyone else-”
“Stiles.”
“Right.” Stiles offers him one of his beaming grins. “Next week, same bat time, same bat channel?”
“You don’t want to talk about what just happened?”
“I will do whatever you want to do about what just happened,” Stiles blurts out immediately.
“What if what I want to do is put kissing on the table, maybe?”
“I’d, uh. Really like that. I’d really like to do that again. And again.”
Derek laughs, unable to stop himself from leaning over to give Stiles another quick kiss. “Okay then.”
“I’m probably going to keep asking for consent.”
“That’s okay.”
“And I expect you to be truthful, or just, like, push me away if you don’t want to be kissed and I forgot to ask again, or whatever, okay?”
“I expect the same of you, you know.”
This time, for the first time, and yes, Derek does mark the minute, Stiles leans to him, and kisses the apple of his cheek, and his nose, and his forehead, before sweeping a kiss over his lips. “Agreed. You should get going. Be safe. I love you.”
Stiles has said those three words to him before, but always with a platonic tone. Now, though, with Stiles’ lips still an inch away from his, they have a weight to them they haven’t had before. “I’ll text you when I get home. I love you, too.”
Derek hurries out before he can change his mind about staying the night.
--The Present--
Stiles kneels in front of him, brushing their lips together again. “I’m going to blindfold you now, Der.”
Derek gives Stiles one last look before letting his eyes close. He feels the silk of the blindfold slip over his eyes, and falling into his headspace is a bit like slipping slowly and peacefully under the water of a warm bath. He feels tense muscles relax, hears Stiles’ praise as his shoulders loosen and fall.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” Stiles presses a kiss on the silk between his eyebrows. “You’re safe.”
--First Bad Day--
There’s an incessant knocking at his door, steadily growing more insistent and worried. Eventually, Stiles’ voice accompanies it. “Derek? Are you okay?”
It’s when Stiles says something about calling the cops because he’s worried that Derek has had an aneurysm and collapsed and is unconscious and, and, and- that gets Derek off the couch and pulling open the door to his loft.
“Der! Hi! Um. Hi. Um. You’re okay.” Stiles is obviously taking in his grungy shirt with holes in the sides that could make new head holes if Derek wanted to start a new fashion, and his favorite worn, comfy sweats. Or maybe he’s looking at the circles under his eyes.
Whatever it is, Derek just grunts, and heads back to the couch, the TV on some mindless nature documentary about reintroducing wolves to Yellowstone. He collapses, tucking the pillow under his head again. “Did you need something?”
“Nope.” Stiles walks somewhere out of his sight, and then he hears the kitchen sink turning on and off. Thirty seconds later, and there’s Stiles again, pressing a glass of water into his hand. “Here, drink this.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Water isn’t going to help.”
“Water always helps. Unless you’re drowning, in which case, add less water. But. Water always helps.”
“Doesn’t make me feel less worthless,” Derek mutters, even as he takes a sip. He realizes he has forgotten to drink anything - or eat - all day. He’s fairly sure he’s been zoning out to the same documentary on repeat for hours. Begrudgingly, he admits that the water tastes good, and drinks some more.
“If I press food on you, do you think you could eat it?”
Derek picks at one of the holes in his shirt. “You’re not supposed to see me like this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not pretty, and I suck right now. You should probably just leave me alone.”
“Do you want me to cite all of the scientific studies I’ve read that back up how good your soulmate’s touch is for you on a bad day? Because I can.” Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s. Again, begrudgingly, Derek has to admit that some small part of him feels soothed. “I’m here for the good days and the bad days. Or I’d like to be. I don’t need pretty.”
“You deserve pretty.”
“I deserve you. And have you seen you, by the by? Very pretty.”
Derek can’t help but laugh, just a little, but he sobers quickly. “Seriously, you’ll have a way better day if you just go off by yourself.”
“Maybe. I guess I’d rather have a slightly less good day if it means I can maybe help make yours slightly less bad.”
Later, when Stiles’ front is pressed to his back, spooning him perfectly as they start to drift off to sleep in Derek’s bed, Derek murmurs, “You could be here for all the days. The loft is plenty big.”
“Are you serious?”
Derek clasps his hand in Stiles’ and presses it against his own stomach. “I guess you’re all right to have around on a bad day.”
He feels Stiles’ snort against his neck, and then Stiles presses a kiss there. “I’d love to live here with you.”
Derek turns his head just enough to kiss Stiles’ cheek. “Cool.”
Stiles squeezes him in a hug. “Yeah. Um.” His fingers worry the skin between Derek’s. “Um. I have bad days too, okay? Well, more like bad nights.”
“You don’t sleep.”
“I mean, sometimes I do. It’s better than when I was going through puberty and everything was out of whack.”
“Well. I guess I’d rather have a slightly less good night if it means I can maybe help make yours slightly less bad.” Derek lets a small smile cross his lips as he parrots Stiles’ earlier words.
“Turning my own words around on me, huh?”
“If you don’t know that about me by now…”
Stiles laughs. “Yeah, you’re right.”
--The Present--
Stiles’ lips are bruising against his as they make out. Derek’s not allowed to touch, not when his hands are ‘bound’ behind his back like this, even if they aren’t actually bound. If he’s good, Stiles will give him exactly what he wants. And it’s so easy to be good for Stiles, much easier than accepting his praise.
When Stiles pulls back, they’re both out of breath, and Stiles just keeps murmuring love words, even as his voice gets farther away.
“Open up that gorgeous mouth for me, baby.”
Derek can tell he’s standing now, and his blood sings in anticipation at what’s coming next. He lets his lower lip fall, looking up at where he presumes Stiles is.
He’s rewarded almost right away with the thick head of Stiles’ cock pressing into his mouth. He lets out a pleased little grunt, opening his lips to take even more.
--First Orgasm--
Derek blinks awake, and his first thought is that he’s exhausted. They’d spent the day moving Stiles in, carrying the boxes up three flights of stairs. Of course his soulmate is a damn librarian.
Showing Stiles the library room he’d put together for him, wall-to-ceiling bookshelves and big cushy chairs next to one of the best windows in the loft - well, Stiles’ delight had meant everything. He’d loved watching Stiles collapse into one of the chairs and just grin. “It’s perfect. And this means I get to buy more books,” he’d added with a shit-eating grin.
Because he’s exhausted, Derek’s not really sure why he’s awake. It’s only when he realizes that Stiles’ arms are no longer around him, and the bed is cold beside him, that he figures out Stiles isn’t there with him.
Groaning from sore muscles - getting older is the fucking worst - Derek pads out in search of his soulmate/boyfriend. Just the word boyfriend warms him up a little. Stiles isn’t hard to find - he’s sitting out on the fire escape, staring up at what he can see of the stars, a lit joint hanging from his fingers. It all clicks for Derek - he knows Stiles uses weed sometimes to help him relax when sleep isn’t coming. As Derek watches, he inhales a hit, lets it sit, and smoothly blows the smoke out of his nose.
“We need to never let an impressionable pre-teen watch you do that, they’ll be hooked on smoking for life,” Derek says as he slides out of the window and onto the bench seat next to Stiles.
Stiles laughs, then kisses his cheek. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Missed you.”
“Aww.”
“Shut up.” Derek lets their mouths slide together, tasting a bit of the smoke lingering on Stiles’ lips. He sweeps his hand through Stiles’ hair. “Is it helping?”
Stiles shrugs as he takes another hit. He offers the joint up, but Derek declines, so he scrapes the burnt tip off and packs it away. “The move has me all keyed up, I guess.”
“Regrets?” Derek asks as they make their way back inside and settle on the couch. He pulls Stiles into his lap and drapes a blanket over the both of them.
“No. Just, like. I’m always weird about new places. My parents never moved. My bedroom at my dad’s house still has my height marked into the door jam. College, sure, I moved around, but that’s forever ago. Just. Have to get used to it, is all. Have to figure out all the exits. Know my strategy for the zombie apocalypse, and all that.”
“That’s why I keep a baseball bat next to the bed.” Stiles makes a needy little noise and Derek laughs. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just imagining you in a baseball uniform, watching you hit one out of the park. God, I bet your ass looks amazing.”
Derek snorts, and nuzzles into Stiles’ neck. “I played in high school, you know.”
“Ah, god, jailbait Derek. Tell me there are pictures.” Stiles lets Derek have better access to the sensitive flesh under his ear.
Derek feels Stiles’ cock grow hard against his stomach, though Stiles hasn’t seemed to notice yet. Every time Stiles gets too excited, he seems to hit some self-imposed boundary that Derek certainly hadn’t agreed to, and if Stiles hasn’t noticed, Derek’s not going to point it out.
Stiles’ whole body stiffens next, though, and he pulls back, scooting off Derek’s lap, running a hand over his face. “God, sorry, sometimes when I smoke I get horny. I’ll just go jack off in the shower or something.”
Stiles moves to get up, but Derek reaches up for his hand, pulls him back down to the couch gently. “I don’t mind if you’re hard, Stiles.”
“No?” He stops trying to leave. “It’s not, um. Triggering, or anything?”
“I need you to trust me to tell you that it is or isn’t.”
Stiles swallows, then nods, solemn. “I’m- I’m sorry.”
“With Kate, I- one of the ways she maintained discipline was to keep my cock caged. For days, weeks. She didn’t- want me to use it, to get hard, ever. I disgusted her.” Derek swallows, closing his eyes against the memories. “You- obviously you’re not disgusted by me.”
Stiles’ hands sweep his bangs back. “I’m so very, very not.”
It makes Derek laugh, just a little. “You don’t have to go jerk off in the shower. I could...help?”
He lets Stiles kiss him gently, lets Stiles press kisses to his forehead and his cheeks. “That would be amazing...but I’m not sober. I mean, I guess I’m sober enough to know I’m not sober, but. Remind sober me to give you full approval for the future.”
Derek just brings Stiles into a straddle over his lap and hugs him to his chest. He rubs over his back in a steady, soothing motion. “Are you feeling tired at all?”
“Mmm, maybe if you keep doing that.” Stiles' voice does indeed seem to be slurring with sleep.
“I keep the baseball bat by the bed in case of intruders, undead or otherwise. There’s a fire safety inspection twice a year that checks out the escape, but I can show you how to lower and raise the ladder tomorrow so you’ll know. There’s an emergency kit with water and food and stuff under the sink in the kitchen if there’s an earthquake or any other crisis that requires it. Oh, and flashlights, candles, and matches in the kitchen, bathroom, and inside the coffee table behind you.” All of this, Derek delivers in a low, calming tone, and it’s a delight to watch Stiles’ eyelids slowly start to drift closed.
When he wakes, it’s to Stiles stroking through his hair, gently, like he’s a puppy. It feels too nice, and all at once, he realizes they’re both hard - morning wood - between them.
“Morning,” Stiles murmurs, nuzzling against the shadow of his beard.
“Morning.” His hands slip down Stiles’ back, over his ass, as he unconsciously moves them closer together. Their cocks brush against each other through their pajama pants, and Stiles groans.
“Hey guess what?”
“What?” Derek says, sucking a mark into Stiles’ collar bone.
“I’m sober.” Stiles bites at his earlobe. “And I really want to touch my dick to your dick. You down?”
Derek almost laughs at the informalness of it all. Apparently Stiles’ hesitation is gone. “I’m down.”
Stiles grins, pushing at their pajama bottoms until he can get his hand wrapped around both of their dicks. He licks his palm to ease the slide, the gathers precum to help even more.
“Oh, fuck- Stiles-”
Stiles smiles savagely. “Believe me, I have a lot of experience jerking off.”
The pressure of Stiles’ hand feels amazing, as does Stiles’ stiff, hot cock pressed against his. It’s some ridiculously short amount of time before Derek is gasping, arching into Stiles’ hand. He feels the orgasm sweep through him as he spills cum all over Stiles and their pants. Stiles bites into Derek’s collar bone and comes right after.
“Welcome home,” Derek growls in Stiles’ ear.
--The Present--
Derek can get lost sucking Stiles’ cock. He loves it like this, not being able to see heightening all of his other senses until they’re filled with Stiles: Stiles’ little breathy moans when he swirls his tongue just the right away; the way Stiles tastes in his mouth; the way he’s restrained from going any farther than Stiles will let him go.
It’s what allows Derek to let go, to give himself completely over to Stiles’ care. This is the part of Derek that can trust Stiles implicitly, and as soon as he feels it, he practically goes boneless, utter relaxation overtaking his limbs as he slides completely into deep subspace.
“So good for me, so precious, Der.” Stiles voice echoes through his head.
--First Negotiations--
He feels Stiles behind him before Stiles slides a hand over his shoulder. Derek looks up, but Stiles shakes his head, giving him a small smile before looking back up at the scene currently going on.
It’s a shibari scene, the bottom wrapped beautifully in bright blue ropes. It makes Derek’s skin tingle, in both fear and desire.
Stiles’ hand travels down his chest, then his stomach, as he leans over to whisper in his ear, “What’s your safe word?”
Derek lets out a little laugh, leaning back to nip at Stiles’ neck. “What’s your safe word?”
“Boyd and Erica are here to take over if you want to take off.”
“Go home with the sexiest Dom in here? I guess.”
Stiles snorts, pulling Derek to his feet. He turns a corner away from the scene, then presses Derek to the wall and kisses him senseless. “I love you.”
“You’re legally obligated to, now, you know,” he retorts, flashing the ring on his finger as they head to the exit.
“Hey, I’d love you even if an EMP wiped out all of the records of our marriage.”
“An EMP? What have you been researching, and how much is it going to cost in refurb on the loft?”
“Nothing. But I am going to need more books.”
“Of course you are.”
“Hey, don’t forget, you’re legally obligated to love my books.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
They laugh as they walk, then let the silence of the street at night carry them for a bit. Eventually, Stiles squeezes his hand. “I saw you watching me with Veronica tonight.”
“You did a good job with her.”
“Look, Der, I just want to say - thank you. Thank you for being cool with me still owning the club, still Domming. I can’t explain it, I just - it just helps, you know?”
“I know,” Derek whispers. “I miss that, sometimes.”
Stiles stops them on the corner, looking up at Derek with a dumbfounded expression. “You do?”
“I- yeah. Sometimes. I miss going under. I’d never subject a Dom to the landmine field that are my triggers, though.”
“What if it was a Dom that really, really, really, really, really loved you?”
Derek leans over, placing a kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Then I’d tell him that I’d want to subject him even less.”
“Listen, Der, it’s no pressure. Obviously, what we have right now is working. But I’d like to be able to take you under safely. Let you play again, and feel good. I’ve got an entire file of research on the intersections of trauma and kink-”
“Of course you do.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.” Derek sighs, reassesses his feelings. “No,” he says, more strongly. “No. I just- what if I disappoint you? What if- this taints what we have, taints it with her.”
“The latter, that’s a valid concern, okay? But you’re not going to disappoint me. I love you, no matter how it turns out.” Stiles pulls him in for a hug, and Derek willingly goes. “If you want this to happen, I swear to you, we can make it happen.”
Derek lets a breath in and out, letting Stiles’ scent soothe him. “I want to go down for you. You’re the only one I trust.”
Stiles squeezes their hands together. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
--The Present--
“God, you’re so beautiful like this.”
Stiles voice comes to him in the dark like a blanket. He feels warm, and safe, and comforted. “S’it over?” he slurs, not keeping the disappointment out of his voice.
Stiles laughs a little, hugging him close. Derek slowly realizes that they actually are wrapped up in a blanket, in bed. He has no idea how Stiles moves him around when he’s in subspace and absolutely useless. “Depends on what you mean by over, because we still have all the fun aftercare parts left. Like me hugging you close and telling you how beautiful you are over and over.”
“Mmm, I like those parts, too.” Derek yawns, and his jaw cracks. “I meant, did you cum?”
“Oh, yeah, that happened too. I accidentally got some in your hair, sorry. We’ll take a shower later and I’ll get it for you.”
Derek can’t feel anything but bemused and satisfied. “Good.”
“You did such a good job, Der.”
Derek snuggles into Stiles’ arms more closely. “You did, too. I love you.”
“Mmm,” Stiles hums, burrowing his face in Derek’s neck.
Derek smiles as he rubs over the tattoo on Stiles’ right wrist - the one in the same handwriting as his First Words. The one that matches the tattoo on Derek’s own right wrist, in Stiles’ handwriting.
One Road