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Derek (surlier) wrote,

"Do you like it with any werewolf or just me?" Derek had to ask. If it was any werewolf -- a low growl rumbled in his belly and he leaned in closer, until he was physically pressing Stiles back and down into the couch cushions. But there was a hint of a tease to it as well, in the curve of his mouth. He suspected it wasn't every werewolf that did it for Stiles. "Do I need to keep Boyd, and Isaac, and Scott away from you?" Except he was grinning, because he didn't believe any of them were any real competition.

As for his other partners -- he kept quiet on that even before Stiles said he didn't want to know. "I'm not with anyone else for a reason, Stiles. They're not you. So if you think you're going to get jealous of them -- don't. They're my past. You are my future."

Scooping out some of the cake with his fingers, he shifted his weight onto one arm and began to draw a chocolate triskele on Stiles' ribs. It was messy, but the design was clear. "Some internal soreness is to be expected. And some of your muscles, because they haven't be used that way before." A massage was in order, just as soon as he finished cleaning up the design he just made.

"Have I ever -- what?"

Maybe he'd take his time with it though, as he lapped a wide streak through the chocolate. "I don't know -- probably not? It usually happens for wolves once a year, and that's when they're trying to get their mate pregnant. If you already are --" he rolled his shoulders, unsure. His ruts he'd always spent alone, unwilling to chance getting anyone pregnant, or letting his guard down that far again. With Stiles, that wasn't a concern. "It probably won't be. The behavior aspect might still be there, but I honestly don't know."

His eyes closed at the kisses and for a moment, he simply basked in the attention of his mate. "I'm just -- I want you to know. To be prepared for -- I won't let you out of my sight. Some mates hate it and it's the one time of the year that the pack has to stay away." Because there would be fights, and they could be bloody and vicious. But with Stiles here-- he nuzzled at his cheek and bent down to take another swipe of chocolate off his skin. And if Stiles wasn't already pregnant by then -- "If your heat is anywhere close to my rut, either one of us can throw the other into an early one. And if you weren't pregnant before, you will be after." No amount of contraception that either one them were taking would be enough to stop that. And it wasn't like either of them would be in the right mind to keep taking it throughout.

His nostrils flared, catching on the faint edge of spice. If he'd known what Stiles was thinking about -- "You smell like you like something," he murmured and kissed the edge of his ribs, his navel, and then up to his solar plexus before they got too distracted.