A/N

Characters: Derek/Stiles (Slash!)

Length: One-shot/off-shoot of the prologue of 'D&S fest: Humanity' (possible two shot if reviewers are so inclined.)

Warnings: M. Lemon (or possibly lime?) Almost non-consenual but not quite. Blood. Gore. Sex (not too explicit but close) and various other dark themes. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: Teen wolf isn't mine.

Okay, this is my first scene of this...paticular type. Ie: PWP. Well, not really PWP. I did this because the dream sequence for my other story was a big hit I felt bad for leaving people hanging. This is a continuation of that story so please read the first chapter of 'D&S Fest: Humanity' first. Just in case you didn't I included the first part of it here, so you can skip ahead of re-read it.

The wind whistled through the trees, singing a song to those creatures of the night that listened and obeyed it's every command. Whirling and dancing through the night it brushed across the still forest chilling everything it touched. It was the presence that thrilled those inhabitants of the forest to no end and forced all those who dwelled outside, those used to the light, to flee in horror and distaste. The cold, icy wind blew silently for a moment, the trees almost seeming to draw in a deep breath of anticipation as all noise stopped. The forest held a collective breath watching; waiting.

Stiles broke through the forest in an all out run. Finally breaking the silence as if the forest itself had turned against him wanting his location revealed. He may not have been the greatest athlete in his school, hell on some days even the fat kids could take him but not tonight. Not when the adrenaline coursed through his veins and every gulp of air that he sucked in burned as he struggled desperately for more. He had to get away from here. He was, he needed, he…He stopped for one moment, just one second to catch his breath that was all he needed but suddenly there was a noise behind him and he bolted through the trees like a frightened animal.

That was undoubtedly what he was. He was nothing but a creature here in this forest; he was nothing but a hunted animal. Stiles knew in his heart of hearts that he was prey. He was smart, Stiles in fact, was bordering on a genius level intellect so it should come as no surprise that he'd seen more than enough animal planet to know that it wasn't often that the prey escaped the hunter. No, that only happened in clichéd stories and fairytales like little red riding hood. Even then those things only happened in the modern day versions not the original tales of horror.

Man, did his mind enjoy wandering. He wondered how it was possible that he thought it wise to allow his last thoughts to be of little red riding hood. That was a little bit creepy and paedophilic for his liking. Stiles was running so hard he could swear he could feel the muscles in his legs begin to strain under the pressure. He knew that any moment his legs would give out under him, he would hear the loudest pop ever and his tendons would snap, everything in him would give out an he wouldn't be able to escape anymore. The things hunting him would win and he would lose once that happened.

Stiles refused to fall prey like that, to be destroyed while he couldn't even move. He knew his face was covered in blood and sweat and tears. He would not go down like this. Once he hit the clearing he knew exactly what he was going to do. Even though his heart was beating so loud that it gave away his location and he couldn't even hear himself think over it Stiles had managed to come up with something resembling a plan. He stopped towards the middle of the clearing, cleaning his face and composing himself as much as possible. The façade was just that, fake as can be but he hoped at least it would be of a condolence to his friends (Scott) and family (dad) that he didn't look like shit as he died…

He could feel it now, the wind wasn't against him anymore. It was if the air itself had decided to commend him for his decision to die gracefully and with as much pride as he had left. Not that he had that much to begin with, what with the way he was constantly falling over and shit. Whatever, he could deal with that when he got to meet the big cheese up in heaven. He felt the air quiet and the presence of his hunter grew closer no, not closer…bigger somehow.

Standing in the clearing he had to consciously fight the scream that wanted to tear through his lungs as he felt two large hands press themselves over his eyes from behind. His body stiffened as adrenaline surged through him. His heart skipped a beat and he was sure he was going to die when the voice whispered seductively, "guess who?"

The man stepped even closer with his words leaving absolutely no space between him and stiles and as he pressed closer to him Stiles let out a low whine that was a cross between panic and fear and his desperate desire to bolt…His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, his body shaking with fear waiting for what happened next. He could feel those arms slipping down pass his eyes to grip him around his waist pulling him even closer than before.

This was it, this was his final moment and in that one moment Stiles could do nothing put scream as the man whispered in his ear a chuckle of amusement in his voice. "Boo."

It was if the world itself stopped and collapsed in upon itself. One moment he was screaming and the next moment a hand was coming up to cover his mouth. Stiles wanted to bite, he wanted to kicked and scream and cry and sob. Instead he respected the wishes of that hand, he respected and obeyed. The wolf…man…thing waited until all was calm and his breathing had evened out as much as could be expected. He was afraid but not on the verge of a panic attack as he once was.

"We'll save that screaming for other things," came a harsh whisper and all at once, things started happening faster than Stiles could focus on. One minute his back was to the man and the next minute he was whirled around and gripped tightly. Almost painfully. Stiles felt tears begin to well up in his eyes.

Slowly, gently he was lowered to the ground and the man followed him, lying on top of him. Stiles noticed the stark contrast between his actions; the gentle movement and the firm, harsh grip that still made him want to cry out in pain.

They were flush against each other now, every single part of their bodies were joined together in unity. Legs to legs, chest to chest, arms intertwined and the man had begun rolling his hips slowly, teasingly against Stiles' own. The pleasure made him want to jolt upwards but that motion only caused the pain in his hands to increase. The man was holding them both down fully now, desperately insisting that he didn't move. Stiles groaned in pleasure and pain as the friction started to get to him. The edgy burn of pleasure was mixed with the violent twang of pain and it shamed him that he wanted more. This would be his first and last sexual encounter and damn if he wasn't enjoying it more than he should be.

The man leaned his head down…brown eyes locked with blue shinning ones and suddenly all movement stopped. It was as if for one stellar moment in time both souls were asking for permission. Stiles saw the eyes flick green for one moment before the blue returned and suddenly it was if his entire body was racked with an intense pleasure. He forced his eyes to open despite the feelings erupting through him and saw that the man was smirking down at him. What magic was this?

Stiles could feel it inside him. A deep pulsing, hitting every sexual nerve ending within him from the inside out. He still had all his clothes on and he already felt like he couldn't take any more stimulation…

As if reading his mind the man ripped his shirt off with one swipe. No, not ripped, tore. Stiles looked down at the claws in fascination. He wanted to cry as one began to make a tantalizingly slow descent down his chest, drawing blood as it went. The man's eyes shone brighter, if possible, at the sight of the red liquid and bend down for a taste. A harsh tongue followed the trail adding even more pain even as it gave pleasure and Stiles didn't know if his screams were for more or for less…

As soon as the blood hit the man's lips Stiles finally understood what the lore had meant by blood lust. He could see it in his eyes, in the way his face contorted into pure longing. That wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be enough until Stiles gave everything he could to him. The one hand holding him prisoner finally released him and Stiles wanted to cry out in joy except at that moment both hands landed on his chest. Long, sharp claws cut lines down his chest, his hands, his neck. They were everywhere, drawing deep cuts, shallow cuts. Marking him, drawing blood in various shades from everywhere.

Just when he thought he could take no more pain there was the tongue again, lapping playfully, teasingly, apologetically at his wounds. The deeper ones were so sensitive that even the playful probing since sparks of pleasure and pain down to pool in Stiles' stomach making him want to cry out, to beg for mercy and to beg for more. With the shallow cuts though the man took his time, licking harshly, drawing even more blood. Stiles cried out every time he found a shallow wound and added to the pain. Everything was melting into one and the boy was already a mass of useless limbs.

The night air suddenly struck him as incredibly cold and he realized that he had somehow been rid of all clothing now. He wondered if his pants had been torn off or if this was some more magic and then those pleasure giving claws were a little too close to his favourite body part for him to care.

Loving the freedom as they were cut loose from his boxers he watched as the man playfully bated him back and forth. He wanted to growl out a command but he knew better than to make commanding sounds. Not now, not like this.

The grip that finally encircled him was so painful, so tight that he didn't think it was possible for the man to even move his hands far less for Stiles himself to climax. He looked on curiously, feeling the way the growls and snarls the man made reverberate through his own chest and send thrills of pleasure through his body. From that moment on all thought was eviscerated from his mind. All he had left was feeling. He couldn't struggle or even look like he wanted to struggle as the man continued his ministrations. This time adding vicious and painful bites to Stiles' body. This wasn't sex, this wasn't love making, this wasn't anything but pure animalistic heat. Rage. Marking.

Stiles was being marked, dominated, taken. Nothing would stop him now and Stiles didn't think he wanted him to stop. He had never felt so completely stimulated, so whole, so complete. Even as the blood drained from his body made him dizzy he couldn't help but love the warm sticky sensations that filled him as they pooled in his abs and his belly button only for the man to bite and lick at those pools lazily as his fingers continued to do a deadly dance. Moving from his most sensitive area to his neck as casually as one would talk about the weather. His fingers encircled his neck and indeed suddenly they were fingers again, and they were tugging too hard at his neck, asking for permission when none had otherwise been asked.

Stiles sensed somehow that this would be the most important decision he would ever have to make. Looking into the eyes of the monster he was surprised to find them green again, pleading, begging…asking. Not trusting his mouth or his fine motor skills he turned his neck to the right, giving permission silently. Hearing the snarl he felt as the beast regained control when the fingers around his neck began biting fiercly into the tender skin. Crying out in pain they were removed and suddenly a hot mouth replaced them. Stiles groaned in pleasure and anticipation.

This was coming, he could feel it coming. He was going to be here all night with nothing but anticipation and the slick sticky sweetness of blood for lubrication. He could already taste the faint metallic taste of his own blood that would fill his mouth when the time came. He knew once wouldn't be enough to satisfy the wolf tonight. No, perhaps once would never be enough…closing his eyes and giving himself into the situation at hand he cried out in a cascade of emotions and sensations as he felt the fangs elongate along the base of his neck. Without warning or pleasantries the fangs descended and Stiles screamed. He screamed as an orgasm racked his body and pain cascaded through his mind and he wanted to die for so many different reasons. Stiles cried out as Derek Hale bit down on his neck and his life was forever and irrevocably changed, he was no longer his own person, he was property, he was owned.

Sorry if the ending sounds rushed. Please R&Review because it's like crack to all writers. I'm actually thinking of making this a continued short story, because really, how WOULD stiles react to being sorta raped in the forest? I love the darker themes and this story is incredibly dark. Tell me what you think, should I end it, make it a two shot, a multi-fic (wouldn't be SUPER long) or actually finish what I'm doing before going crazy with new stories? Anyway, enjoy D&S Fest! I know I am!