quick update: in siena now. just spent 10 euros on fleetwood mac mirage vinyl which means i'm hopping on a bus to another town without a ticket. #priorities
quick update: off from rome which was eventful and also quite weird. now in umbria, in the middle of nowhere down the mountains, in a 400-year-old house with a hippie guy, a friend i'm kind of growing apart from and a donkey right in the front yard. i needed that, i need to be on the move.
The Kline pack's alpha, Jill, starts it by winking at Stiles and asking Derek for his number. Loudly. Where Stiles can hear her.
"Well, did you give it to her?" Stiles says, hounding Derek after the meetup. "I don't know if you're aware of this, given that you are one yourself, but werewolves are hot."
~~
"C'mon," Jill says during their next negotiation. "Sharing information is important."
A muscle ticks in Derek's jaw as he considers, then says, "So you'll agree to share your perimeter observations with us?"
"Sure," Jill says happily, eyes glued to where Derek is scribbling Stiles' number. "I'll have him home before curfew, too."
She does, although the only reason Derek knows this is that he's keeping watch behind the Stilinski house when Stiles drives back, grinning widely and smelling of lipstick and arousal.
No actual sex, though.
~~
After that, it's harder to refuse the McMillan alpha when he asks Stiles to accompany him on a short walk through the woods. They don't want to look like they're forming a potentially-hostile alliance with the Kline pack, after all, and Quincy McMillan ("Terrible name, I know, call me Mac") slips in some nice territory concessions in the bargain.
Also, these are Derek's woods, which means he gets to run through them and circle around the clearing where Mac has Stiles pinned up against a tree, rubbing greedy fingers where Stiles' too-tight shirt cuts across his biceps.
Stiles' lips are reddened, sensitive-looking, when Mac finally leaves them with a fond farewell and a smug expression.
"I should probably care more that you're prostituting me for the benefit of the pack," Stiles says, dreamy-eyed, "but that would mean going against making out with hot people, and I don't think I'm constitutionally capable of objecting to that."
Derek just shrugs and goes for a run followed by a long, punishingly cold shower.
~~
Amy, the Kindle pack's alpha, is six-months pregnant. Derek might have expected that to mean she wouldn't have any designs on Stiles.
Of course, that was before her eldest, a sweet three year old pup with huge green eyes, took a fondness to Stiles. "He smells sweet," she declares, rubbing her face against Stiles' neck with familiar aggressiveness.
The kid's father, James, looks at Derek and shrugs helplessly. "Born Alpha," he says with a fond sigh, even as Amy checks Stiles out through lowered lashes.
It's the first time Derek has seen Stiles hesitate. "Um, but what about--" he gestures at James.
"I suppose he can tag along, if you want," Amy says doubtfully. "How about it, honey?"
James waves them off. "Not my thing. But you guys go on and have fun." James turns to Derek with a smile suddenly gone sharp. "Now, about that mutual protection pact..."
~~
"I expected werewolves to be more territorial," Stiles says on the drive back. They're nearly back in Beacon Hills, and this is the first thing he's said since they left Kindle territory. Amy must have worn him out.
Derek shrugs. "We are on other levels. You're human; you can't smell that Amy's nuts about her husband. You, she just had the hots for."
"Oh. I guess that's weird too, all those Alphas wanting to have sex with me." Stiles shifts in his seat.
Derek's nostrils automatically flare, searching for the smell of come. There's none there. "You don't, though," he says, surprising himself. "Have sex with them, that is."
"I dunno." Suddenly, inexplicably, Stiles smells sad. "I mean, it's fun. And then we go a little bit forward, and suddenly it's not anymore."
He sounds fed up with himself. Derek steals a glance at Stiles' generous mouth, suddenly thin-lipped and stern. "You don't have to," Derek says, sounding halting and awkward even to himself. "Whatever you don't want--"
Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yeah, got the message, they stop before I even know I want them to." But he's smiling again, if a little wistfully. "I just wish I understood why. All my life I was dreaming about hot people sexing me up, then the time comes and I just can't."
"I thought you dreamed about the Martin girl sexing you up," Derek says with a snort.
He means it as a joke, but Stiles nods like something new and interesting just occurred to him.
