Chapter 5: Claiming the Omega
The door to Scott’s room shut with a soft, definitive click, and the world outside—the lingering laughter from Lydia and Stiles’ room down the hall, the faint reggaeton beat from a distant beach bar—muffled into nothing. It was just the two of them, again, finally, in the humid dark.
The whole day had been an exercise in silent torture.
Sunbathing while Derek’s skin screamed for Scott’s touch. Eating street tacos while Scott’s knee pressed against his under the plastic table, a point of contact that burned through his jeans. Swimming in a crowded cove, the water doing nothing to cool the heat between them. All under the casually accepting, slightly curious eyes of the pack. They’d been cool about it, which was somehow worse. Their nonchalance made the frenzy building inside Derek feel monstrous, a private madness he had to cage behind his teeth.
Now, in the silence, the cage door burst open.
Scott didn’t kiss him. He just walked him backward, hands firm on Derek’s hips, until his calves hit the edge of the wrought-iron bed. The thud was soft, final. Moonlight through the balcony doors cut across Scott’s face, highlighting the amber glint in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. He looked like he was holding onto control by a thread.
“All day,” Scott said, his voice a low rasp. “All fucking day. Smelling you. Wanting you. Watching you lick salt off your lip and knowing I couldn’t…”
His hands went to the hem of Derek’s t-shirt, tugging it up. Derek lifted his arms, the movement automatic, submissive. The shirt flew somewhere into the shadows. Scott’s palms were rough and warm as they slid over Derek’s chest, his stomach, mapping the territory he’d claimed in the ocean, under the moon. His thumbs brushed Derek’s nipples, and Derek sucked in a sharp breath, his back arching.
“You have no idea,” Scott murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of Derek’s ear. “What it does to me. Seeing you laugh with Stiles. Knowing what you feel like when you come. Knowing it’s because of me.”
He undid Derek’s shorts, pushed them down his hips. Derek stepped out of them, kicking them aside. He was already hard, his cock straining, the tip wet. The cool air raised goosebumps on his skin, but underneath, he was molten.
Scott’s own clothes followed, a hurried scramble of fabric. Then he was naked, pressing Derek down onto the sun-bleached sheets. The mattress was soft, yielding, so different from the unforgiving rock. Scott’s weight settled over him, solid and real, and Derek’s legs fell open in immediate invitation. His body knew the drill. Craved it.
But Scott paused, hovering above him, breathing hard. He looked down at Derek, spread out beneath him, and something fractured in his expression. The Alpha intensity bled into something raw, almost pained.
“Derek,” he said, just his name, but it was loaded with everything they hadn’t said all day.
“Just do it,” Derek gritted out, the need making him vicious. “Don’t fucking talk. Just…”
He reached between them, wrapped his hand around Scott’s cock. It was thick and heavy in his palm, already leaking. He guided the blunt head to his entrance, which was slick, embarrassingly ready. The first contact sent a jolt of pure, undiluted need straight to his core.
Scott’s control snapped.
He shoved forward, one brutal, sheathing thrust that buried him to the hilt.
The air ripped out of Derek’s lungs in a punched-out gasp that was almost a scream. It was too much, too fast, a delicious, blinding invasion that stretched him wide and filled him completely. His vision whited out for a second, his nails digging into Scott’s bare shoulders.
“Oh god,” Scott groaned, dropping his forehead to Derek’s, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. “Fuck. You feel… you’re so…”
He didn’t finish. He just started to move.
There was no rhythm, no finesse. It was feral, desperate, a piston-drive of hips that hammered into Derek with relentless force. The iron bedframe creaked in a steady, protesting rhythm against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each impact drove Derek deeper into the mattress, each withdrawal a dizzying loss until Scott slammed back in, claiming the space all over again.
Derek’s mind dissolved. There was no thought, only sensation. The smell of their sweat, of sex, of ocean salt still in their hair. The coarse rub of sheets against his back. The overwhelming, intoxicating scent of Scott—Alpha, musk, his—filling his nose, his mouth, his lungs. Every nerve ending was alive, singing a single, discordant note of pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.
Scott’s mouth found his, swallowing his ragged moans. The kiss was sloppy, all teeth and clashing tongues, a wet, starving mimicry of the act below. One of Scott’s hands tangled in Derek’s hair, holding his head still, claiming his mouth as thoroughly as his cock claimed his body.
“Mine,” Scott grunted against his lips, the word vibrating through both of them. “Say it.”
Derek couldn’t speak. He could only feel. The brutal pace, the crushing fullness, the electric friction on that spot inside him that made sparks flare behind his eyelids. A high, thin whine leaked from his throat.
“Say it, Derek.” Scott’s voice was guttural, edged with a command that wasn’t just sexual—it was lupine, primal.
The word broke from him, shattered and raw. “Yours.”
It was a truth that went deeper than the physical. On that rock, he’d understood it physically. Now, in this tangle of sweat and need, he felt it in his bones. In the way his body opened, begged, took everything Scott gave. In the way the knot of conflicted pride in his chest had dissolved into this pure, desperate wanting.
Scott growled, a deep, vibrating sound of pure satisfaction that Derek felt in his own sternum. “Yeah. You are.”
He didn’t slow. If anything, the pace became more relentless, more punishingly perfect. He shifted then, his big hands sliding under Derek’s thighs, hoisting his legs up and back, folding him almost in half. The angle changed, deepened, and the blunt head of Scott’s cock drove directly into that unbearable, brilliant spot inside him with every thrust.
“There,” Scott panted, his breath hot and ragged against Derek’s throat. “Right there, fuck, you take it so good. So perfect for me.” His words were a filthy, praising torrent. “Look at you, opened up just for my cock. Made for it. That sweet hole is mine, Derek. Tell me.”
Derek’s head thrashed side to side on the damp pillow, overwhelmed. The dual assault—the brutal, perfect physical penetration and the verbal claim—shattered his last defenses. A broken, sob-like sound escaped him. “Alpha.”
The effect was instantaneous. Scott froze for a split second, his entire body locking up above Derek. Then a ragged, wounded groan tore from his lips, his eyes flashing a hot, molten red in the dark. His cock, impossibly, seemed to swell even thicker inside Derek, a claiming pressure that bordered on painful.“Fuck. Say that again.”
“Alpha,” Derek whimpered, the title feeling both foreign and fundamentally right on his tongue. It wasn't just a word; it was a surrender to the entire new hierarchy of his body, to the need that Scott alone could meet.
Scott let Derek’s legs drop, instead wrapping his arms around his torso and flipping them both in one powerful, dizzying motion. Derek now straddled him, impaled, gravity forcing Scott even deeper. He braced his hands on Scott’s sweaty chest, his own body moving in a clumsy, desperate rhythm, riding him, chasing the friction that was coiling his gut into a tight, screaming knot.
“That’s it, use me,” Scott urged, his hands gripping Derek’s hips, guiding the bounce, helping him sink down onto that thick length again and again. “Take what you need. Show me how bad you want it.”
“I can’t—I’m gonna—” Derek’s words dissolved into incoherent gasps. His own cock, untouched and weeping, bounced between them. The pressure built, a white-hot wire pulled taut from his balls to the base of his spine.
“Come on,” Scott commanded, his voice dark and encouraging. “Let go. Come all over me. Do it.”
It was the permission, the raw ownership in the command, that tipped him over. Derek’s back arched, a silent scream on his lips as his orgasm ripped through him untouched. Thick ropes of come striped Scott’s stomach and chest, each pulse wracking his frame, his channel clenching and fluttering violently around the cock still buried deep within him.
Scott groaned, the sound dragged from the depths of him, and his hips snapped up off the mattress, fucking up into Derek’s convulsing body. “Yeah, squeeze me just like that.Perfect. Gonna fill you up now. Gonna pump you so full of me you’ll taste it tomorrow.”
He drove up once, twice, three more times, his movements becoming short, sharp, and erratic. His grip on Derek’s hips turned bruising. “Right inside you,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on Derek’s. “Marking you. Claiming what’s mine.”
With a final, shuddering thrust, he buried himself to the root and held. Derek felt the hot, sudden flood, pulse after pulse of Scott’s release filling him, spilling deep, a scalding brand of possession. He collapsed forward onto Scott’s chest, his muscles turned to liquid, their sweat and come slick between them.
They lay like that for long minutes, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the distant ocean. Slowly, carefully, Scott softened and slipped out. Derek winced at the sudden, empty feeling, the immediate cool air on his oversensitive skin, followed by the unmistakable wet trickle of Scott’s spend.
He was too spent to move. Scott wasn’t. The Alpha shifted, rolling Derek gently onto his side. Derek felt Scott’s hands spread his cheeks apart, exposing him. The humiliation was sharp and bright, followed by a dizzying wave of submission.
“Christ, look at that,” Scott muttered, his voice thick with awe and satisfaction.“My fucking mess. All mine.”
Then Derek felt it—the warm, wet swipe of Scott’s tongue, licking a broad, deliberate stripe from his taint up over his twitching, used hole. He jolted, a shocked groan torn from him. Scott didn’t stop. He lapped at him, cleaning him, sucking gently at the tender flesh, consuming his own release from Derek’s body with a low, possessive hum.
The sensation was obscene, intimate beyond anything that had come before. Derek trembled, overwhelmed, his fingers clutching at the rumpled sheets. Scott took his time, licking him clean with a thoroughness that felt both ritualistic and deeply carnal.
Finally, Scott moved up the bed, his body sliding against Derek’s. He cradled Derek’s face, his thumbs wiping at the tear tracks Derek hadn’t realized were there. Then he kissed him, deep and slow and searching. Derek could taste himself, taste salt, taste Scott—a mingled, primal flavor that was them.
“You were incredible,” Scott whispered against his lips, his voice softer now, reverent. He pulled Derek into the curve of his body, holding him close, one heavy arm thrown across his waist. “Just fucking perfect.”