Scott McCall is a Junior at Beacon Hills University and is an Alpha werewolf, age 21, possessing supernatural strength, endurance, and recovery, and one of the leading members at the fraternity Delta Chi. He is ruggedly handsome, very muscular, has moppy dark hair and brown eyes and a big, girth, uncut cock. It's his third year at university and he has never felt so disoriented, ever since Freshman omega werewolf Derek Hale, age 19 started pledging the frat. Derek, beautiful, dry witted and strong willed Omega, has made him have to fight every instinct to crowd against him or make some kind of pass like half the frat has made which Derek has politely (to varying degrees) turned down. It's a few weeks before the end of first semester and the pledges officially have been invited to be brothers. Scott and Derek are hanging out, Derek, always friendly and attentive to Scott, says he's going to finally let loose one big time before it's time to start studying for finals hardcore. They have a great time, Derek getting looser and looser and as he drinks more and more, after drinking games and then Derek dances until the party starts dying down, pulling Scott into the dance party once it's well past 2 am, dancing close before Derek starts to get a little wet, Scott trying to act decent, against every alpha instinct, and not comment on it, until the other frat brothers start telling people its last call. Derek looks at Scott then and says he's too drunk to walk home, asks if he can stay the night. Ultimately Scott tells Derek he doesn't want to sleep with him until the morning cause Derek is drunk and Scott doesn't want to take advantage. Derek is very touched by this and then drunkely ashamed a bit and gets embarrassingly emotional but Scott holds and kisses him through it, Derek falling asleep in his arms. No knotting in this world.

Chapter 4: Morning Worship

The cedar-and-sweat scent of Scott filled Derek’s lungs, thick and comforting. Sunlight, stronger now, striped the tangled sheets where they lay. Scott’s hand rested heavily on the small of Derek’s back, his thumb tracing lazy circles just above the curve of his ass. The silence wasn’t awkward, just heavy with the aftermath.

"Seriously, though," Scott murmured, his voice still a low rumble, rough from exertion. "Last night... seeing you like that... crying." His fingers tightened minutely. "Fucking wrecked me, Derek. Wanted to tear Jackson apart for making you feel like that." His scent shifted, a brief undercurrent of protective fury cutting through the post-coital haze.

Derek tensed slightly, the memory of Jackson’s drunken, leering proposition at the party surfacing – the unwanted hand on his thigh, the crude insinuation about Omegas needing an Alpha’s 'attention'. He’d held it together then, his rejection icy and clipped, but later, alone with Scott… the dam had broken. "He was just drunk and stupid," Derek muttered, shifting against Scott. "Used to it."

"Doesn't mean you should be," Scott countered, his hand sliding lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of the sheet tangled around Derek’s hips. "Seeing you upset... fuck, Derek. Something primal just snaps." He pulled Derek tighter against him, their naked skin sliding together. Scott’s morning stubble rasped against Derek’s temple. "Shouldn't have let you walk away like that. Should've dragged you back here right then."

Derek huffed a small, dry laugh. "And have the whole frat see the Alpha dragging off the crying Omega? Real subtle, McCall." But he nestled closer, the protective heat radiating off Scott a balm. Then he felt it. The undeniable, rigid pressure thickening against his thigh. Again. He tilted his head back, meeting Scott’s warm brown eyes, now darkened with renewed heat. A slow, wicked smirk curved Derek’s lips. "Already?" he drawled, his voice dropping an octave.

Scott’s answering grin was pure wolf, predatory and shameless. "Can you blame me?" He rolled his hips deliberately, grinding his hard length against Derek’s hip, the friction delicious even through the thin sheet. "Lying here, smelling you, feeling you... remembering how fucking incredible that ass felt milking my cock dry." His hand slid all the way down now, palming Derek’s ass cheek possessively. "Still wet for me, gorgeous? Bet you are."

Instead of answering, Derek moved. He pushed himself up and back, sliding down Scott’s sweat-slicked torso with deliberate slowness. His eyes, dark with intent, stayed locked on Scott’s as he navigated the landscape of hard muscle – the defined ridges of Scott’s abs, the trail of dark hair leading down. He ignored Scott’s leaking cock for a moment, dipping his head to swipe his tongue across Scott’s lower belly, licking up a smear of dried cum left from his own earlier release. The taste was salty, musky, undeniably theirs. Scott hissed, his stomach muscles clenching.

"Fuck, Derek..." Scott groaned, his head falling back against the pillow, fingers instinctively tangling in the thick, dark silk of Derek’s hair.

Derek smirked against Scott’s skin. He nuzzled lower, his lips brushing the prominent vein running along the thick base of Scott’s cock. He inhaled deeply, the scent of Scott’s arousal, mixed with their dried fluids and the lingering cedar, was heady, intoxicating. Then, with no preamble, he opened his mouth and took the broad, flushed head of Scott’s uncut cock past his lips.

"Shit!" Scott gasped, hips jerking upwards instinctively. Derek’s hand closed around the base, steadying it, as his mouth slid down the thick shaft. No hesitation. No gag. His throat opened easily, swallowing Scott down with obscene ease. His tongue worked furiously beneath the sensitive ridge of the head, then swirled around it, lapping at the pre-cum already beading at the slit. The foreskin slid back, revealing the slick, dark purple crown, and Derek sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks.

"Look at you," Scott choked out, his voice thick with awe and lust. He tightened his grip in Derek’s hair, not forcing, just holding, grounding himself as he watched. "Fucking gorgeous. Taking me so deep, baby. God, your mouth..." He could see the thick outline of his cock stretching Derek's lips wide, glistening with spit. Derek’s cheekbones were flushed, his eyes half-lidded, focused entirely on his task. Scott’s cockhead nudged the back of Derek’s throat, and Derek relaxed, letting it sink deeper, his nose pressing into the coarse hair at Scott’s groin. He held it there for a beat, breathing harshly through his nose, his throat muscles fluttering around the intrusion. The visual was devastating – Derek’s beautiful, stubbled jaw stretched obscenely wide around Scott’s girth, spit slicking his chin.

Derek pulled back slowly, dragging his lips along the shaft, his tongue swirling under the sensitive head again before diving back down, taking Scott deep in one smooth glide. He set a relentless rhythm, head bobbing steadily in Scott’s lap, his hand pumping what his mouth couldn’t take. The sounds were filthy, lewd: wet sucking, guttural moans from Scott, the slick slide of Derek’s lips. Derek’s free hand drifted down, fingers tracing the slick cleft of his own ass, finding himself still open, still wet from Scott’s earlier claiming. He pushed two fingers inside himself easily, the dual stimulation making him moan around Scott’s cock, the vibration drawing a ragged cry from Scott.

"Jesus Christ, Derek!" Scott panted, his thighs trembling. "Sucking my cock like a fucking pro. Knew you had skills, but fuck..." He watched, mesmerized, as Derek worked him. "Look so fucking hot like this. Like you were born to choke on my dick." His thrusts became shallow, involuntary, pushing deeper into the wet heat. "Gonna make me blow down that perfect throat."

Derek’s eyes flicked up, meeting Scott’s heated gaze. He moaned again, the sound muffled, vibrating around Scott’s cock. He hollowed his cheeks impossibly tighter, sucking hard, his tongue pressing hard against the sensitive underside. His fingers fucked himself faster, the wet sounds from between his legs joining the obscene symphony.

"Fuck! Fuck, Derek, yes!" Scott roared, his control snapping. His hips jerked off the bed, driving his cock impossibly deep into Derek’s throat as he came. Thick jets of hot cum pulsed directly down Derek’s gullet. Derek swallowed convulsively, his throat working, taking every spurt without hesitation. A little escaped, pearling at the corner of his stretched lips and trailing down his chin. Scott shuddered violently, gasping Derek’s name, his fingers tight in Derek’s hair, holding him firmly in place as he emptied himself.

Derek stayed there, swallowing dutifully, until the last tremor passed through Scott. Then, slowly, he pulled off, Scott’s softening cock slipping from his lips with an audible pop. A thick string of spit and cum connected his bottom lip to the glistening head for a second before snapping. Derek swiped the back of his hand across his wet mouth, his lips reddened and swollen. He looked up at Scott, a satisfied, almost smug gleam in his dark eyes despite the raw state of his throat.

Scott stared down at him, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow. He looked utterly wrecked, a dopey, sated grin spreading across his face. "Fucking hell, Derek," he breathed, voice wrecked. He tugged gently on Derek’s hair, pulling him up. "C'mere." He kissed him deeply, tasting himself on Derek’s tongue, uncaring. It was possessive, messy, and perfect. "You're fucking incredible," Scott murmured against his lips.

Derek settled against Scott’s chest, the steady thump of Scott’s heart loud under his ear. The air was thick with sex and satisfaction. Scott traced idle patterns on Derek’s back, his other arm wrapped securely around him. "Gonna have to keep you locked in here forever," Scott murmured, half-joking, half-feral. "My perfect fucking Omega."

A comfortable silence fell, broken only by their slowing breaths. Derek traced the lines of Scott's abdominal muscles, feeling the residual tremor of exertion. He was drifting, lulled by the warmth and Scott’s solid presence, the lingering soreness a pleasant reminder. The scent of Scott, amplified now by his claiming and Derek’s slick, was like a drug.

A sharp, authoritative knock shattered the quiet. "McCall!" a voice barked from the hallway – Liam, the fraternity president. "Chapter meeting in ten! Stop jacking off and get your ass downstairs!"

Scott’s arm tightened around Derek instantly, a low growl rumbling in his chest, possessive and territorial. Derek froze, the lazy contentment evaporating, replaced by a spike of adrenaline. His fingers dug into Scott’s side.

"Not jacking off, Liam!" Scott yelled back, his voice rough but controlled. He dropped his head, nuzzling Derek’s hair, his growl softening into a possessive murmur meant only for Derek’s ears. "Later, beautiful. Mine." The promise hung thick in the air, a counterpoint to the intrusion, as the sound of Liam’s retreating footsteps echoed down the hall.