Author's Note: Dub-con warning comes into effect here, as does a warning for Dom/sub dynamics. If you need further explanations, please see my note at the end.

Once the pack got a chance to look Derek over themselves, touching him more than strictly necessary in order to cover the scent of Fae and magic that clung to his skin, they all sprawled out around his living room.

Doing some major pack bonding after any kind of serious confrontation was a rule Stiles had instated years before. It was a good way for the pack to regroup, to swap a battle mindset for a calmer, lighter one. Not to mention the fact that all the wolves, and in some instances the humans, seemed to heal faster when the pack stayed in close proximity.

When Stiles emerged from upstairs, freshly showered and hip slathered in a healing balm, the rest of the pack was already scattered around the loft. Scott and Lydia were curled up against each other on a mattress they'd dragged out of the guest room. Lydia's head was pillowed on Scott's chest while his fingers trailed through her hair. Jackson, Erica, and Allison were sitting at the table playing Rummy, Allison's feet in Erica's lap beneath the table.

All of them looked up when Stiles eased himself down the stairs, only wincing once when his hip twinged as his feet hit the floor.

"How do you feel?" Lydia asked, not bothering to lift her head even as her eyes lifted to him.

The wooziness from whatever mojo the faerie woman worked with her hand in his chest had mostly worn off but Stiles was left feeling drained. It took more energy than he'd be willing to admit aloud just to shower and drag himself downstairs. From the concerned looks on his friend's faces that wasn't at all what they wanted to hear.

Stiles shrugged one shoulder and scratched at the edge of his jaw before he answered, "I'm... Dealing, I guess? Someone tells you that you're not quite as human as you thought you were and it kind of throws you for a loop, you know?"

Lydia laughed softly. "Tell me about it."

"You're still Stiles." Allison called from the table as she laid down three aces. "Fae or not."

Stiles dropped a kiss to the top of her head on his way to the kitchen.

Boyd and Isaac were talking softly, seated at the island when Stiles walked in. Derek was standing in front of the stove, arms crossed over his chest and a far away look in his eyes. Stiles swiped a grape off the plate in front of Isaac as he crossed the room, only stopping when he had his face tucked into the side of Derek's neck and Derek's arms banded around him. Magic still hummed along Derek's skin, but the gentle pulse was soothing in a way. It felt familiar to something buried deep inside Stiles' chest.

"Pizza will be here in a few minutes." Derek informed him softly, the words vibrating his throat against Stiles' lips.

"Not hungry." Stiles grumbled, burrowing more firmly against Derek's chest.

"You're going to eat anyway." Derek lifted a hand to the back of Stiles' neck, giving it a tight squeeze. "You need the energy."

Stiles sighed heavily, fighting to keep his eyes open now that he was surrounded by the comforting heat of Derek's body. "Fine, whatever. Just... Stand still and hold me up for a minute."

Derek's chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arms tightening around Stiles before his body stilled. "So much for being careful."

Like he'd been slapped Stiles jerked away, his eyes wide and apologetic. "Shit, sorry! I didn't mean that to come out as a command, I swea-"

"It's fine, Stiles. Relax." Derek pulled him back into his arms and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth.

"I'll be more careful." Stiles promised, pushing his forehead against Derek's.

"I trust you." Derek said, as though that were all that really mattered.

"You two are the worst." Isaac complained, throwing a grape that bounced off the back of Stiles' head and rolled across the kitchen floor.

Boyd snorted. "Right. They're the worst." he said pointedly, one brow quirked.

Isaac smiled wide and unabashed. "I have no idea what you're implying."

"Remember that the next time you go all heart-eyed and waggy-tailed when Scott or Allison so much as breathe." Stiles told him, turning in Derek's arms so that he could lean back against his chest.

"Hey, breathing is hard!" Scott called jokingly from the living room.

Stiles opened his mouth to make some innuendo or another only to have Derek clap a hand over his mouth to stop it.

"Pizza guy is here." he announced. "Go find us a spot and I'll bring you a slice."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but disentangled himself and shuffled back to the living room mumbling, "I'm not an invalid." under his breath as he went.

"Shut up and sit down." Jackson pointed to the couch as he tossed a pile of pillows on the floor in front of it.

Too exhausted to bother arguing, Stiles sank into the sofa like a rock through water. Heaving a heavy sigh he flopped around a bit to get comfortable, ending up with his legs flung over the arm of the sofa and his head on the cushions.

He must have fallen asleep because before he knew it Derek was sliding in beneath him, laying Stiles' head in his lap and plopping a paper plate with two slices of pizza on it onto his belly. "Eat." Derek gruffed.

Reluctantly and with more trouble than usual, Stiles pushed himself upright and took a bite of his pizza. Satisfied, Derek turned his attention to his own dinner and the Bruce Willis movie just beginning to play.

Stiles managed to finish most of a slice before his stomach rolled and he tossed his plate onto the end table. Derek hefted a brow but didn't comment and Stiles took it as acceptance. His eyelids kept fluttering shut so he gave into the urge to press in along Derek's side and let them fall closed.

Derek brushed a kiss to the top of his head but Stiles was already fast asleep.

Stiles woke up in his and Derek's bed, stripped down to just his briefs and all by himself. The loft was silent so he figured that Derek must have gone for a run or something. Sunlight crept in through closed curtains, telling Stiles he'd slept through the night. The sheets beside him were still warm and smelled like Derek, so he hadn't been gone that long.

Stretching out like a starfish, Stiles took stock of his body. His hip felt tons better, only the barest ache making itself known when he rolled his body. He still felt wiped out but it was more normal now, less magically drained and more like he just hadn't slept well.

Looking at his phone on the nightstand, Stiles found that it was just after nine o'clock. Summoning the will to climb out of bed he dragged on a pair of Derek's sweats and headed for the bathroom.

By the time Derek came back, all glistening skin and healthy glow, Stiles was putting eggs and sausage onto plates and laying them out on the island.

"Give me three minutes." Derek called as he ran upstairs.

Stiles sat down to his plate, munching on a piece of toast while he waited. Derek reappeared, hair wet and in fresh clothes, just as Stiles caved and popped a bite of sausage into his mouth.

"I waited as long as I could but I'm fucking starving." Stiles grinned as Derek sat beside him.

"That's because you didn't finish your pizza last night." Derek informed him. "You were out before anything even exploded."

"I'm sure Bruce had it all under control." Stiles mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

Derek huffed a laugh.

"So, how about you?" Stiles asked, brows raised in question.

"What about me?" Derek hedged, digging into his breakfast.

Stiles gave him a bored look. "Are you still enchanted or spelled or whatever?"

"I wouldn't know. I didn't run into any faeries on my run." Derek snarked.

Stiles hesitated, chewing his lips in debate, but ultimately decided that they needed to know, one way or the other.

"Take your shirt off." he commanded.

Derek blew out an irritated breath but did as he was told. "Happy?" he glowered, throwing the shirt down on the counter.

"Should have told you to lose the pants." Stiles grumped under his breath, pushing eggs around his plate.

Two days later and Derek was still obeying commands given by Stiles. Deaton had nothing new for them, simply encouraging them to, "Wait it out.".

Derek was getting pissier the longer he stayed spelled. Stiles tried to be careful, catching himself and turning commands into questions as often as he could, but he wasn't perfect.

After he told Derek to go to Hell only to find him four hours later in the middle of the burnt out Hale house, unable to leave until Stiles told him to, Stiles not only felt like the biggest asshole on Earth, but he was nearing the end of his rope.

Watching what he said wasn't a concept Stiles was all that familiar with. Normally he just blurted whatever popped into his head, consequences be damned. Except now, the consequences weren't his, they were Derek's. One wrongly phrased sentence and Stiles could fuck everything up.

It weighed on him like a boulder on his chest, always there and never getting any lighter. It was easy for Deaton to say "give it time" when he wasn't the one who could control Derek against his will. Stiles was so frustrated he'd taken to staying away from Derek as much as possible, a fact that only served to make Derek surlier and Stiles feel like he'd been hit by a steamroller.

The emotional strain reached its peak late on the third day.

Stiles was up and out of the loft before Derek even opened his eyes, headed for Scott's. Isaac was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee when Stiles let himself in. He didn't say a word, just motioned for him to help himself to a cup. Allison and Scott also refrained from scolding Stiles for running away when they came down a few minutes later.

Stiles spent the entire day with them. He ignored his phone when it rang, not even looking at the caller ID. Scott gave him the mean side-eye but he kept his mouth shut, a fact that Stiles couldn't appreciate more.

It took Derek calling Allison's phone and her refusing to let Stiles get out of taking the call for him to talk to Derek.

Really, all it took were two four letter words for Stiles to get his head out of his ass and do what Derek wanted. Just the defeated sound of Derek saying, "Come home." was enough.

So, he went home.

When he let himself into the loft Derek was laid out on the couch, a book laying closed on his chest. Stiles went right to him, throwing the book onto the coffee table and laying down in its place. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, hugging him close, enveloping him in body heat and the low buzz of magic Stiles was slowly growing accustomed to.

"You didn't have to leave." Derek said softly.

Stiles tucked his head up under Derek's chin and shoved his arms between him and the couch. "I know." he allowed. "I just kind of felt like I had to. I'm so used to telling you what to do, I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing again."

"Stiles." Derek sighed, rubbing his chin in Stiles' hair. "Even if you made me do something, something you didn't mean to make me do, we'd get through it. I'd get over it because I know that you would never intentionally do anything to hurt me. I trust you, remember?"

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice to come out without cracking.

"Hey." Derek whispered, tapping a finger to Stiles' back until he lifted his head to meet Derek's gaze. "We just have to hold on a little longer, okay? Deaton said these things almost never last more than a week. I know patience isn't one of your virtues but try to pretend."

Stiles pinched him on the back. "You would know virtue, wouldn't you? You stole all of mine."

"It's not stealing if you beg me to take it." Derek shrugged carelessly but his mouth tilted up on one side.

"I did not beg!" Stiles argued indignantly, shoving himself upright so that he was straddling Derek's hips.

Laughter bright in his eyes, Derek hefted a brow up at Stiles. "Are you sure about that? I seem to recall one night in particular where the words, 'Derek, please.' and 'Derek, just fucking touch me already.' seemed to be the only words you knew."

"Oh my God, I hate you." Stiles groaned while Derek chuckled under him. "You are the absolute worst. A menace to society, I tell you."

Derek levered himself up to wrap his arms around Stiles' waist, planting a warm kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Lies." he rasped.

Stiles shuddered as Derek's fingers splayed wide at the base of his spine. He curled his own fingers around the hem of Derek's t-shirt. "Off." he demanded. "Take this off."

Derek didn't miss a beat, leaning back so he could reach between them and haul his shirt over his head. Too late Stiles realized it had come out as a command. He looked down at Derek, ready to apologize, only to see Derek staring up at him expectantly, eyes glossy and pupils blown wide.

"Oh." Stiles gulped, felling a frisson of heat skip up his spine at the surge of control, the heady rush of power that flooded his veins. He only hesitated a second before saying, "Now mine."

Derek stripped Stiles' sweater and t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement, leaning in to mouth at the skin he revealed. Stiles' head fell back, a sighing breath puffing past his lips as Derek nipped and sucked his way up to Stiles' throat. Stiles rocked down against him, rolling his hips in slow waves.

Wanting to test it, to see how much control Derek allowed before he fought against it, Stiles planted his hands to Derek's chest and shoved him back against the couch. He shuffled backwards to kneel on the cushion by Derek's feet. Derek watched him attentively, waiting to see if another command would come.

"Undo your belt." Stiles dipped his chin at the metal buckle laying flat in the center of Derek's pelvis. "Slowly." he added.

Derek complied immediately, loosening the belt and letting it hang open.

Stiles swallowed hard, fingertips tingling with the authority he exerted over his Alpha. "Now your jeans." he ordered.

Again, Derek did as he was told, popping the button and sliding down the zipper of his jeans before stopping and waiting for more instructions. Stiles scooted closer so that he could hook his fingers into the waist of Derek's jeans and beneath the band of his boxer-briefs.

"Lift up." he directed, tugging both down when Derek complied.

Stiles threw Derek's pants on the floor, letting his eyes sweep over the gloriously naked vision his boyfriend presented, laid out on their living room sofa. "Christ, you're beautiful." Stiles sighed, trailing his fingertips up the inside of Derek's calves, eyes lingering on Derek's cock where it lay half-hard and heavy against his belly.

Derek shivered, goosebumps erupting under Stiles' touch. "Stiles." he sighed, tilting his head back, baring his throat in a submissive gesture that had Stiles' head swimming with power.

"Lick your palm." Stiles instructed, watching with awe as Derek did what he asked. "Good. Now, wrap it around your cock for me."

Derek moaned as he obeyed, his wide fingers curling around his shaft, sliding smoothly as he gave himself a few tugs.

Stiles' own erection was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper but he couldn't seem to care, couldn't take his eyes off of Derek. He watched, enraptured, while Derek jerked himself off.

"Slower." Stiles added when Derek's pace quickened.

Derek whimpered but slowed his strokes, a whine catching in his throat when Stiles' fingers brushed the inside of his thighs, just below where his balls hung. Derek bit off the sound, straining up into the too gentle touch.

Stiles laid flat palms to the tops of Derek's thighs and slid them up, thumbing at the hard cut of his pelvis and pressing down. Derek's hips bucked against Stiles' hands and he gasped.

"Fuck. Please, Stiles." Derek pled, his own fist never stopping its pulls.

"Not yet." Stiles denied, bending at the waist to flick the tip of his tongue at Derek's crown, the salty bite of pre-come dancing over his taste buds before he moved away.

Whining again, low and wounded, Derek reached for Stiles with one hand when he leaned over him to dig through the end table beside the couch. Stiles leaned into the hand steadying his hip for a moment before he pushed himself back and dropped the bottle of lube on Derek's stomach.

Derek raised a questioning brow, looking from the bottle to Stiles and back. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"Oh, I can think of lots of things you could do with that." Stiles smirked. He lowered himself over Derek, his mouth brushing along Derek's jaw until he reached his ear and whispered lustily, "But right now, I want you to stop jerking off and fuck yourself on your fingers instead."

Derek moaned raggedly at that and sank his teeth into the meat of Stiles' shoulder. Stiles inhaled sharply, heat burning through him and magic sparking out from the bite. He hadn't been sure how Derek would respond to the half-command/half-request but he was pleased with the one he got.

Stiles stood from the couch and reached for his own belt. "On your knees." he ordered, fire flaring in his gut when he saw Derek shiver.

Up on his knees and braced on the back of the couch, Derek spread his knees wide and reached behind him with lube slicked fingers. Stiles' breath caught in his lungs as he stepped out of his jeans, almost tripping because he couldn't tear his eyes away from watching Derek work two fingers into his ass.

"If you could see what you look like right now..." Stiles groaned, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock.

Derek's head hung forward, his shoulders tight as he fingered himself. Stiles couldn't resist moving closer, kneeling behind Derek to get his hands on his ass. He palmed Derek's cheeks, spreading them so he could get a better look at where Derek's fingers disappeared into his body.

"Stiles, I need..." Derek choked out, "I can't. It's not enough."

"I know." Stiles soothed, running one hand up Derek's flank while the other joined the hand at Derek's hole.

Gently, Stiles gathered some of the lube from around Derek's rim and slipped one finger in beside Derek's own. He pressed his chest right up to Derek's back, liking the way Derek's muscles shifted while he fucked back on his hand. Derek gave a full body spasm when Stiles grazed his prostate and bit down hard at the curve of his neck.

"Shit." Derek growled, thrusting back against their hands.

"Come on, Der." Stiles coaxed, adding another finger and stroking Derek's prostate with intention. With his free hand he fisted Derek's cock, jacking him in time with his fingers. "Come for me."

Derek's body went rigid, his skin burning hot and shimmering with magic. Stiles' name passed Derek's lips on a whimpered moan as his asshole clenched around their fingers and he came over Stiles' fist.

Stiles worked him through it, letting Derek come down gently while Stiles littered his neck and shoulders with open-mouthed kisses. Derek sagged over the back of the couch, his limbs limp and pliable. Stiles stood up just long enough to let Derek slide sideways on the cushions and then straddled him once more, pining Derek to the couch between his thighs.

Derek watched Stiles jerk off above him with warm, sated eyes, his skin flushed but still shimmering and his lips parted around labored breaths.

When Stiles spilled over Derek's abs, painting them with singeing white lines, Derek arched into the feeling. Stiles' vision flared pink as his spine tightened and a loud pop sounded inside his head before he collapsed forward onto Derek's chest.

"What the fuck was that?" Stiles panted, humid breath ghosting across Derek's skin.

"Tell me to do something." Derek urged, shifting around under Stiles so that he could sit up a little.

"Go fuck yourself." Stiles laughed breathlessly, jabbing a finger into Derek's ribs.

"Already did that." Derek snorted but made no move to comply.

Stiles forced himself upright, eyes wide with surprise. "Seriously?! I broke the spell with sex? What kind of 18+ fairytale bullshit is that?"

Derek's eyebrows judged him. "At least it's broken." He shrugged, running his fingers through the mess on his stomach. "Maybe it's an essence of life thing." He suggested. "Your blood probably would have worked, too."

Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought of bleeding on Derek when not in the midst of a life or death battle, Stiles said, "Jizz is better."

Derek laughed and pulled Stiles into a lingering kiss, tongues tangling and breath mingling. When they parted Derek shifted onto his side, putting Stiles between his body and the back of the sofa.

"We'll go see Deaton tomorrow." he promised, peppering kisses along Stiles' jaw. "Right now we should sleep."

"We're going to wake up really uncomfortable and in need of a new couch." Stiles warned, already snuggling into Derek's warmth.

Slipping a leg between Stiles' knees, Derek only sighed. "I've been meaning to make a trip to Ikea anyway."

Author's Note: The dub-con warning is because Derek is under a spell that makes him feel compelled to do anything Stiles tells him to do. He's not 100% capable of consent under these circumstances, though he and Stiles are a sexually active couple before this story starts.

The Dom/sub dynamics warning is because Derek and Stiles engage in sexual activity in which power and submission play a large role.