When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception, so he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Derek doesn’t get why he likes it so much. It’s just not -- he hadn’t expected to need this. Not from Stiles. Not from anyone, ever. He doesn’t do this. Except he does, now. Because it’s for Stiles, and Derek -- fuck, he likes it too.

The Mending That You Need: “He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.” The One Where Derek Almost Dies: "You remember that one time you got shot and almost died in my car? And that other time when... well, you were shot then too and almost died in my car... again. What is it with you and almost dying in my car?""

Derek finally works up the courage to ask for something, and Stiles is more than willing to help. (Or the one where Derek and Stiles have been together for years and have a relationship based on mutual love, trust, and respect.)

“He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.”

The third time, Stiles says, “You’re such a good boy,” while Derek’s quivering at his feet. It’s kind of tentative; his voice rising at the end like it’s a question, but the sound Derek makes in response…oh my God. And now Stiles really understands. He gets it.

"Hold still," Stiles says, hand clamping down on the back of Derek's neck to keep him from turning and it's laughable, really – the thought that that would be enough to hold him. Except it is. Because Stiles' fingers are gripping the nape of Derek's neck, pressure sure and hard and Derek- Derek can't fucking breathe.

She hasn’t had a partner-assisted orgasm in over a week and a half, and she is just beyond done. She wants to lie down on the cold bathroom floor and cry. Derek is starting to look like a permanently kicked puppy. “Look,” she tells him after dinner, “I love your inner self and your personality or whatever, but can I just tie you up and use your body until I come a couple times?” Derek fumbles the sudsy glass in his hand. “Awesome!” Stiles says brightly.

Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

Derek goes away to deal with a hostile rival pack, and Stiles calls him up to settle his nerves. “Ah, you feeling a bit stressed out big guy?” “Yes,” he says, voice raspy. “It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you right now."

The last thing Stiles expects when he walks into Lydia’s exclusive S&M club is to rescue a sub who’s obviously been mistreated for a long time. His name is Derek, and when he awkwardly reaches out, asking Stiles to be his Dom, the urge to shield Derek from more pain is too strong for Stiles to resist. But Derek is still recovering from his past and learning how to set boundaries, so they have to take things slow.

He feels helpless, and not in the good way. Not in the way he needs to feel, the way that means freedom. Being the Alpha means not getting to feel that anymore.

Jackson has long since admitted that he likes being pushed around. (or: five times jackson whittemore takes it like a pro, because he likes to.)

Jackson has long since admitted that he likes being pushed around. (or: five times jackson whittemore takes it like a pro, because he likes to.

He feels helpless, and not in the good way. Not in the way he needs to feel, the way that means freedom. Being the Alpha means not getting to feel that anymore.

Stiles gets a workout.

Short fics originally posted to my Tumblr, edited and collected here.