Chapter 1: Payment in Pleasure
The stale air in Derek’s loft hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sharp tang of exertion. Isaac lay sprawled on the threadbare couch, his breathing shallow but steady, the deep gashes on his side already knitting together with the unnerving speed of their kind. Moonlight, weak and filtered through grimy windows, sliced across the dusty floorboards, illuminating motes dancing in the silence.
Derek leaned against the cold brick wall, the rough texture biting into his shoulder blades. His muscles screamed from the fight, a familiar ache, but deeper down, a different kind of tension coiled. It had been weeks. Months, maybe. The constant running, the threats, the gnawing loneliness – it left a hollowness that even the adrenaline couldn’t fill. He watched Scott McCall pace near the boarded-up window, the younger Alpha radiating restless energy even in exhaustion. Scott’s jaw was tight, his usual earnest expression hardened by the night’s violence. He’d saved Derek’s life back in the subway tunnels months ago, tearing Peter Hale off him. Derek hadn’t forgotten.
"Derek."
Scott’s voice cut through the quiet, sharper than the moonlight.
Derek grunted, pushing off the wall. "What?"
Scott stopped pacing, turning to face him fully. His eyes, still faintly luminous gold from the shift, held an intensity that wasn’t entirely about the fight. "You owe me," Scott stated, his voice low, direct. No room for argument. "For the tunnels. For tonight."
Derek met his gaze, an old defiance flaring briefly before being smothered by a wave of… something else. Resignation? Anticipation? "Yeah," he rasped. "I owe you."
Scott took a step closer. The air crackled, charged with the residual energy of the shift and something else, something primal that hummed just beneath the surface. Derek could smell it on him – sweat, blood, fear, and a burgeoning, undeniable heat. Scott’s eyes dropped, deliberately, lingering on Derek’s mouth for a heartbeat too long. Then they snapped back up, locking onto Derek’s.
"I want you to suck my dick."
The words landed like a physical blow, blunt and shocking in the stillness. Derek felt his own breath hitch, his pulse kick hard against his ribs. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Scott McCall, the moral compass, the reluctant Alpha. A slow, dangerous heat spread through Derek’s gut, pooling low. He’d watched Scott for longer than he cared to admit, the raw power simmering beneath the surface, the way he moved, the sheer presence of him. The thought alone sent a jolt straight to Derek’s cock, already stirring in his jeans.
He didn’t hesitate.
"Okay."
Scott’s eyes widened, just a fraction, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by a dark, hungry certainty. He jerked his head towards the darker recess of the loft, away from Isaac. "Over there."
Derek moved, his boots scuffing softly on the dusty floor. The space Scott indicated was near a rusted metal support beam, deep in shadow. Scott followed, stopping just in front of him. The proximity was electric. Derek could feel the heat radiating off Scott’s body, smell the musk of him – earth, pine, and that distinct Alpha scent that made Derek’s inner wolf whimper low in his throat. A submissive thrill, sharp and sweet, shot through him. He dropped to his knees without a word, the rough wood biting into his kneecaps. This position felt right. Natural. Looking up at Scott, the power dynamic was absolute, intoxicating.
Scott fumbled with his belt buckle, his movements jerky, betraying the nervous energy beneath his command. The rasp of the zipper was loud in the quiet loft. He shoved his jeans and boxers down over his hips, freeing his cock.
Derek’s breath caught. Scott was thick, uncut, the head a dark, flushed pink emerging from its hood. Already hard, veins standing out along the impressive length. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip. The scent intensified – pure, potent male arousal. Derek’s mouth watered.
"Go on," Scott murmured, his voice thick. He gripped the base loosely. "Do it."
Derek didn’t need telling twice. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the prize. He flicked his tongue out first, a slow, deliberate lick across the swollen head, gathering that salty-sweet pre-cum. A low groan rumbled in Scott’s chest. Derek hummed in satisfaction against the sensitive skin, then parted his lips, taking the head fully into his mouth.
He swirled his tongue around it, exploring the ridge, dipping beneath the foreskin, teasing it back gently. He loved this. The weight on his tongue, the taste, the sheer control he had in this moment of submission – the power to give pleasure. He sucked lightly, hollowing his cheeks, drawing another deeper groan from Scott.
"Fuck, Derek," Scott breathed, his hand coming down to tangle roughly in Derek’s dark hair. Not pushing, just holding. Anchoring.
Encouraged, Derek sank down lower, taking more of Scott’s length into his mouth. He relaxed his throat, his wolf biology making the deepthroat effortless. He could feel the thick shaft pressing against his palate, the heat radiating from it. He bobbed his head slowly, rhythmically, his tongue working the underside, tracing the prominent veins. He sucked harder, creating a delicious pressure.
"Yeah… just like that," Scott gasped, his fingers tightening in Derek’s hair. "God, you’re good at this." His hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust, pushing himself deeper into Derek’s throat.
Derek welcomed it. He loved the slight choke, the stretch, the feeling of being used. He moaned around Scott’s cock, the vibration making Scott curse and buck again. Derek picked up the pace, sucking with strong, steady pulls, his head moving faster now. Slurping sounds filled the small space, wet and obscene. He pulled almost all the way off, leaving just the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue furiously, then plunged back down to the root, swallowing around the intrusion.
"Shit! Fuck!" Scott hissed, his thighs trembling. His breathing was ragged now, coming in harsh pants. "Don’t stop. Gonna come…"
Derek doubled down. He sucked hard, relentless, his hand coming up to fondle Scott’s heavy balls, rolling them gently. He looked up, meeting Scott’s blazing gold eyes. The raw need and dominance reflected there ignited Derek completely. He wanted this. Wanted to swallow everything Scott gave him, wanted to be the vessel for his pleasure.
Scott’s back arched. "Fuck! Oh fuck, Derek!" A guttural groan tore from his throat as his cock pulsed violently in Derek’s mouth. Hot, thick ropes of cum hit the back of Derek’s throat. He swallowed instinctively, hungrily, milking Scott through it with strong sucks and rhythmic movements of his tongue. The taste was strong, musky, primal. He kept sucking, gentler now, until Scott’s body shuddered and he pulled back with a gasp.
Derek sat back on his heels, licking his lips, catching the last traces. His own cock was painfully hard, straining against his jeans. He looked up at Scott, who was still catching his breath, his softening cock glistening in the dim light. Derek’s heart pounded, a mix of satisfaction, lingering arousal, and the strange intimacy of the act.
Scott took a shaky step back, hastily pulling his boxers and jeans back up, fumbling with the zipper. He wouldn’t meet Derek’s eyes. The air, thick with the scent of sex moments before, suddenly felt charged with awkwardness. Scott ran a hand through his messy hair.
"Isaac…" Scott muttered, his voice rough but devoid of its earlier command. "He’s still out. I should… I should go. Check on… things." He started walking briskly back towards the center of the loft, towards the unconscious Isaac, purposefully not looking back.
Derek stayed on his knees for a moment longer, the cool air hitting his overheated skin. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the lingering scent of Scott’s release. The thrill of submission faded, replaced by a familiar, hollow ache. He slowly pushed himself up, dusting off his jeans.