Chapter 15

Stiles wakes to morning wood and a warm, wet tongue lapping at his treasure trail. "Gross," he moans, his tongue still thick with sleep. "You're cleaning dried jizz off me again, aren't you?"

Derek hums an affirmative, tongue too busy to answer properly. He's got one hand covering the length of Stiles' dick, holding it out of his way, the other rests on the curve of Stiles' belly.

Stiles cracks an eye open. He can barely see the top of Derek's head over his stomach. "Could you hurry up and get me off, please? Your kid is using my bladder as a trampoline."

"Yeah," Derek murmurs, and Stiles can tell from the sound of his voice that he's only just woken up himself. The next moment Stiles is enclosed by wet and warmth, the head of his dick right down Derek's throat. He thinks, sometimes, that the lack of gag reflex might be a werewolf thing, and he likes it, along with Derek's propensity toward putting his tongue in places other people might find off-putting. Stiles likes it.

It's not long before Derek gulps around the head of Stiles' dick and Stiles comes with a whimper. It's little more than relief. He shoves at Derek's head to get him off. "I need to piss so bad, move it."

Derek hums again and settles in further.

"Urgh. No." He manages to get a foot up on Derek's shoulder, pushes him forcibly off—and Derek lets him, hands sliding down Stiles' naked thighs.

"Hurry back," Derek murmurs as Stiles snags a discarded shirt from the floor and heads for the bathroom.

When he returns, Derek is sitting up against the pillows, the sheet draped over his lap but hiding nothing. Stiles crawls back onto the bed, up and over Derek's stretched out legs.

"Take it off," Derek says, tugging at the hem of the shirt Stiles is wearing.

Stiles wrinkles his nose but drags it off over his head. They have this fight every night, every time Stiles gets out of bed in the morning and throws something on to cover himself for the few steps to the bathroom. Every day he gets bigger and he can't see what Derek finds physically appealing about it.

He obviously does, though. Stiles would know if Derek was faking this.

Derek holds Stiles carefully by the waist and rolls them until Stiles is on his back. Derek's hand slides up, slowly, over the bump and down to brush over each nipple in turn, following the forward motion of his hand with his body as he holds himself carefully above Stiles. "I love you," he whispers, lips barely brushing over Stiles' mouth. "I love you so fucking much."

Stiles closes his eyes and lifts his chin, smiling into a soft, slow, lazy kiss. "Will you still love me when I'm all scarred and marked and flabby?" he asks when they pull apart. He's got this image in his head of the caesarean scar running from one side to the other through his middle, even though Deaton told him it will be small and low and hardly noticeable once it's healed. Even if that's true, he'll still have the stretch marks that have spread out over his lower abdomen, and he figures he's going to have far more skin than he needs once the baby comes out.

"Yeah," Derek breathes as he slides Stiles down the bed, hands spread out over the small of his back, lifting him with werewolf strength. Derek kisses what's left of Stiles' belly button and down, following the lines of stretched skin. "I hope they never go away. I wanna see them every time I strip you naked. I want to remember every time I look at you." He kisses the tip of Stiles' flaccid cock and sucks it into his mouth.

Even as he starts to get hard, silent tears spill out of Stiles' eyes, running down his temples and onto the sheets. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. "Derek," he whispers. "Can you fuck me, please?"

Without taking his mouth off Stiles' dick, Derek finds the lube and opens Stiles up on his fingers. So gentle, and so slow that Stiles is crying out, begging, and his tears have dried by the time Derek slips back between his thighs and pushes into his body.

Derek goes slow. So slow it's maddening, so slow Stiles tries to reach out, to drag him inside, harder, faster, more, but Stiles can't sit up on his own now, he can't reach, can only cling to Derek's wrists as he holds Stiles by the waist and rocks into him. "Let me up," he pants, needing to get onto his hands and knees where he'll have some leverage, where he'll be able to push back and meet Derek, thrust for thrust.

Derek pulls out, takes a moment to lean over and press kisses to Stiles' face before he offers his arm to help Stiles to sit up.

Over on his hands and knees, Stiles pushes back against Derek. "Need you to fill me up," he breathes. "Wanna be so full of you."

One of Derek's hands slides down, cradling Stiles' stomach. "You already are. God, Stiles. So full of me, so fucking gorgeous." He guides his cock back in, slow and easy. "Wish I could keep you like this. Wish I could... Fuck, Stiles..."

It doesn't take much. A few long, jerky thrusts, and Derek's coming, filling Stiles' ass, hot and wet and making everything slicker. He holds himself there while he strokes Stiles to orgasm with his dick still inside.

Derek's soft when he pulls away, trailing wetness down the back of Stiles' thigh. "Stay," he whispers, as if Stiles doesn't know the drill already, as if he'd want to be anywhere else but here. Derek crawls backward, and then his tongue is dragging between Stiles' cheeks, hot and rough over the sensitive hole.

Stiles pushes back into it, because he loves this part, this need Derek has to take care of him, to soothe the ache, to clean up after making a mess of him. Any questions Stiles once had about Derek's feelings for him are gone.

Stiles dozes while Derek showers. Since Stiles moved in, they've developed a routine. Stiles sleeps late, because why the hell not. Derek brings him breakfast, and then he starts his day. He doesn't really go anywhere, it's too hard to hide the fact that he's a heavily pregnant boy now, and his dad is happy to come to them with Stiles' school work and his pamphlets and tape measures.

The sheriff bought a crib a month after Stiles moved in, made Derek help him put it together. Stiles cried while he watched them, saw Derek's lips move when he whispered 'hormones' to his father even though it was a lie. Stiles thought of Hemingway and the shortest, most heartbreaking story ever told, and dismantled it on his own while Derek was out.

.

The smell of bacon rouses Stiles from his nap. Derek's grinning down at him when he opens his eyes, waving a crispy rasher in front of his nose. Stiles grabs it from his hand and puts it in his mouth. "When are you gonna dip it in chocolate for me?" he asks as he chews.

Derek smiles wider, showing his teeth. "Cora's back."

Stiles is suddenly wide awake. He shoves himself up onto the pillows and grabs the plate out of Derek's hands. "Downstairs? She's downstairs?" He starts shoveling food into his mouth.

"Yeah. So get your ass into the shower." He leans close, pecks a kiss to Stiles' temple. "You stink of me."

"Well, of course I do," Stiles says around a mouthful.

.

Everyone else has been there, watched, as Stiles got bigger. Cora hasn't been back since she and Derek left town months ago, so he's nervous as he comes down the stairs, because he's huge, and conscious of it. He grips the hand rail tight and goes down one step at a time, because for a start he can't see where he's putting his feet, and reaches the bottom before he looks up at Derek's sister.

Cora's eyes are wide, and her face is blank. "Stiles," she says. "Oh my god." She glances up at Derek beside her. "I guess I never really believed it," she says.

"Believe it," Derek says. He grabs her hand and pulls her toward Stiles. "Listen."

Cora rolls her eyes. "I heard it over the phone already." Still, she cocks her head to the side and lets out a little gasp of surprise when she hears the baby's heartbeat, and her fingers twitch as she reaches out, stopping her hand only inches from Stiles' belly. "Can I?" she asks, eyes flicking up at him.

Stiles squirms. He still doesn't understand the need to touch, why they'd want to do so. As much as he wants this baby, as much as he loves the way Derek touches him, he still feels like a freak. "Umm, okay?" he says.

Her fingers are tentative and gentle though, and only linger long enough to feel a well placed kick before she jerks her hand back with a nervous laugh. "So, how long?" she says, looking back up at Derek. "This month, or next?"

Werewolf babies always come on a full moon, so Stiles has been told, even when humans are the ones carrying them. Derek was born on a full moon, Cora too, he figures. Of course Stiles' baby will be born whenever Deaton can cut him open and pull her out, but it's not quite that simple.

"We don't know," Derek says. "Forty weeks is right at the new moon, so it could be this month, it could be next. Deaton doesn't want to take her out too early, so we're gonna wait, see if there's any signs." He grimaces and Cora pulls a disbelieving face.

"Right there with you," Stiles says. The last thing he wants to do is go into labor. The thought terrifies him, even though Deaton has assured him that he'll act to get the baby out at the first sign.

"So," Cora says. "This Scott thing. You've been sitting on it for how long?"

"A couple months," Derek says. "We still don't know for sure, but he's got too many on his side. Even the twins are following him, following his orders. We can get him here alone, but I'm not confident I could stop him if he tried anything."

Cora shakes her head. "I don't know. Stiles, you've known him for how long? Is he even capable of something like that?" Suddenly she looks up, right before there's a knock on the door.

Derek jumps up, hops up the steps and unlocks the door, slides it back, letting his uncle in. Peter nods at Cora. "About time you got here. Sorry I'm late." He crosses the room, leans against the windowsill. "Stiles, you look..."

"Just say it. I'm huge," Stiles says.

"Okay. Huge. You're looking huge." Peter flicks his eyes to Cora. "As for Scott, it's instinct. The current Alpha doesn't want any little upstart threatening his position, his power."

"He may not even be conscious of it," Derek adds.

"And think about what killing betas did for Deucalion," Peter continues. "Imagine how much power Scott could add to his own by sacrificing a born Alpha. He'll be unstoppable."

"I didn't think Scott cared about power," Cora says, but her tone is uncertain. "Stiles, really?"

Stiles shrugs. "Honestly, if it was just me, I wouldn't even be worried about it. But it's not just me. It's not me at all. At this point it doesn't matter that I don't get to keep her. I know that she's going to live if Grimm takes her, and I'm not going to risk that for anyone. If there's the slightest chance that Scott could be planning to hurt her, whether he knows it or not, I'm not gonna take that risk."

"Okay," Cora says, nodding. "But what are you gonna do? Wait until she's been taken and then just be best friends again? How can you handle not knowing?"

"That's why we waited for you," Derek says. "If we can get him here alone, the two of us should be enough. Just in case."

"I need to talk to him," Stiles says. "I need to look him in the eye when I tell him what I know, and see how he reacts."

The shortest, most heartbreaking story ever told.