Chapter 2: Morning Hunger and Unspoken Demands
Scott woke to warmth and wetness and a low, humming vibration against his hip.
He didn’t open his eyes at first. The dream was too good—Derek’s mouth, desperate and skilled, the memory of his surrender so vivid Scott could still smell it on his sheets. But the vibration was real. The slick, rhythmic pressure was real.
He lifted his head, blinking against the morning light cutting through the blinds.
Derek was already there, head buried between Scott’s legs, black hair messy against his stomach. He’d taken him deep, one hand wrapped around the base, the other gripping Scott’s thigh hard enough to bruise. There was no hesitation, no sleepy exploration. This was purposeful, hungry. Derek’s throat worked around him, swallowing effortlessly, a faint, obscene gulping sound underpinning the wet suck of his lips.
“Christ,” Scott breathed, the word scraping out of him.
He sank back into the pillow, one hand finding its way to Derek’s head. Not to guide, just to feel the motion, to tangle in the dark strands. Derek’s eagerness was a living thing. He hummed, the sound travelling straight up Scott’s spine, and picked up his pace, hollowing his cheeks, his nose pressed into the coarse thatch of hair.
It was different from last night. Last night had been a shocking, electric surrender. This was… claimed territory. Derek was acting like he had a right to be here, like this was his morning routine. The possessiveness in those digging fingers was new. An Omega staking a claim of his own, in the only way he could.
Scott let him work, a low groan building in his chest. The room smelled of them—dried come, sleep-sweat, and the sharper, cleaner scent of Derek’s arousal. It was a good smell. His smell.
After a few minutes of this relentless, perfect attention, Scott tightened his grip in Derek’s hair and tugged, not hard, but enough to pull him off with a soft, protesting pop.
Derek looked up, lips swollen and wet, eyes dark and confused. A string of saliva connected his mouth to Scott’s cock. He looked utterly debauched. “Wha—did I do something wrong?”
His voice was raspy, wrecked from last night and this morning’s work.
Scott couldn’t help the lazy, alpha-satisfied smile that spread across his face. “Wrong? No. Just wanted to see you.”
Derek’s brow furrowed. He nuzzled against Scott’s thigh, a gesture so instinctively wolfish it made Scott’s chest clench. “Was good though. Felt good. Let me.”
“I know it felt good. You’re insatiable.” Scott shifted, sitting up a little against the headboard. He kept his hand in Derek’s hair, a constant point of contact. “C’mere. Just for a minute.”
Derek crawled up the bed, moving with a new, liquid grace that seemed to bypass his human coordination. He settled beside Scott, his head on Scott’s shoulder, his hand splayed over Scott’s stomach. He was hard, his own length pressing against Scott’s hip, slick already leaking through his boxers to dampen the sheet beneath them. The proof of his readiness was constant, shameless.
Scott turned his face, inhaling the scent at Derek’s temple. “You just wake up and need it, huh?”
Derek tensed for a second, a flicker of his old self-aware embarrassment. Then he relaxed, pushing into the touch. “Yeah. Your scent… it’s stronger in the morning. I woke up and it was everywhere. In my mouth. In my head.” He said it like a confession, like a sin.
“It’s okay,” Scott murmured. He kissed Derek’s forehead, a chaste, gentle counterpoint to everything they’d done. “It’s your biology now. You don’t have to be weird about it with me.”
“Everyone else…”
“Everyone else doesn’t matter. This is between us.” Scott’s voice held a finality that brooked no argument. “You’re my Omega. This,” he gestured between them, to the mess of sheets and the heavy air, “is mine. We figure out the rest as we go.”
Derek was silent for a long moment, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Scott’s skin. “What does that mean? For… out there?” He nodded vaguely toward the door, to the frat house beyond, full of brothers who knew Derek as a quiet, sometimes prickly Alpha.
“It means you’re under my protection,” Scott said, simply. “It means if anyone gives you shit, they answer to me. It means you can be what you are here, in this room, with me. No one else needs to know the specifics.”
“They’ll smell it on me eventually.”
“Let them. They’ll smell me on you, too. That’s the point.” Scott’s tone was easy, but the meaning was absolute. He was marking his territory in the most fundamental way a werewolf could. “Now, you were in the middle of something before I so rudely interrupted.”
A shaky, relieved breath escaped Derek. The worry didn’t vanish, but it was compartmentalized, soothed by the Alpha’s command. He shifted, sliding back down the bed with a look of such fierce concentration it was almost funny.
This time, Scott didn’t just watch. He propped himself up on his elbows, observing the fall of Derek’s hair, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, the desperate, focused set of his jaw. It was a gift, this view. A privilege.
Derek took him back in, sinking down with a deep, throaty moan of his own. His hips shifted restlessly on the mattress, seeking friction. Scott reached down with one foot, pressing his sole against Derek’s obvious erection through the thin cotton.
Derek jolted, a muffled cry echoing around Scott’s length. He began to move in earnest, his hips pushing against Scott’s foot, his mouth working with frantic devotion. The dual stimulation unspooled him quickly. Scott could feel the tension coiling, could taste the shift in Derek’s scent—sharpening, focusing.
“That’s it,” Scott urged, his own control starting to fray. The sight, the sensations, the complete ownership was too much. “Use my foot. Come on. Show me.”
Derek’s movements grew jerky, helpless. He released Scott with a gasp, turning his face to press into Scott’s thigh, his body bowing as he rutted against the pressure. “Scott—I’m gonna—”
“Do it.”
The command tipped him over. Derek came with a choked-off sob, shuddering, spilling into his boxers, his whole body seizing. The pulses of his climax made his throat flutter inches from Scott’s aching cock.
It was the final trigger. Scott fisted his hand back in Derek’s hair, not gentle now, and pulled his mouth back where he needed it. “Now me. Swallow it.”
Two thrusts was all it took. He came down Derek’s throat with a guttural groan, his hips lifting off the mattress. Derek took every drop, swallowing diligently, making small, satisfied sounds until Scott softened against his tongue.
Silence, again. But it was a comfortable silence now. A settled one.
Scott finally let go of his hair, stroking it back from his damp forehead instead. Derek collapsed sideways, breathing heavily, a dazed, satiated expression on his face. The front of his boxers was a damp, darkened mess.
“We’re gonna need to do laundry,” Scott said, his voice cracking a little. He chuckled.
A slow, real smile touched Derek’s mouth. “You’re gonna need to buy more… everything.”
The casual, light-hearted tone was a return, a bridge back to the friendship that underpinned all this new, wild complexity. Scott shoved him playfully. “You’re the one with the bottomless pit. My job is just to keep up supply.”
Derek’s smile widened, then faded into something more thoughtful. He looked at Scott, his eyes clear. “Thank you.”
“For what? The mind-blowing orgasm? You did most of the work.”
“For not making me feel like a freak.”
Scott’s teasing demeanor softened. He pulled Derek closer, ignoring the sticky mess between them. “You’re not a freak. You’re just Derek. A slightly… updated version.” He kissed his temple again.
He kissed his temple again. They lay there for a while, the only sound their breathing slowing into sync. Scott traced the line of Derek’s shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath damp skin, a landscape that was both familiar and newly his to map.
“We’re a mess,” Derek murmured eventually, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.
“A good mess,” Scott corrected. He shifted, rolling partially onto his side to face him. The morning light caught the gold in Scott’s eyes, and Derek found he couldn’t look away. That steady, kind gaze held him more completely than any physical weight ever could. A quiet certainty unfolded in his chest, warm and terrifying.
Scott’s thumb brushed over Derek’s lower lip. “Still with me?”
“Yeah.” The word was barely a sound. Derek turned his head just enough to catch Scott’s thumb between his teeth, a gentle, testing bite. Scott’s answering smile was a flash of white.
Then Scott was moving, closing the last inch between them. The kiss started soft, a question. Derek answered by opening for him immediately, his tongue meeting Scott’s, the taste of themselves mingling, sour and sweet. It deepened without hurry, a slow, exploring dance that quickly caught fire. Derek’s hands came up to grasp at Scott’s back, pulling him closer, needing the full, crushing weight of him.
Scott slid on top, the entire length of their bodies aligning. Derek melted into the mattress, a sigh escaping into Scott’s mouth. The hard line of Scott’s cock pressed against his hip, but it was the heat, the sheer containment, that unspooled him. He was already slick, a fresh wave of it easing the way as Scott settled between his thighs.
“Okay?” Scott breathed against his lips, his hips nudging forward.
Derek could only nod, arching up. There was no resistance, only a smooth, stunning fullness as Scott slipped inside him. They both groaned, the sound swallowed by the kiss. Scott began to move, a slow, deep rock that felt less like fucking and more like a claiming of rhythm, of breath. Each retreat was a loss, each return a homecoming that punched the air from Derek’s lungs.
He clenched around him, involuntarily, a spasm of pure pleasure. Scott broke the kiss with a sharp, gasping laugh. “Do that again.”
Derek did, tightening his muscles, watching Scott’s eyes flutter shut. “Like that?”
“Just like that.” Scott’s pace remained agonizingly deliberate, each thrust a focused, passionate surge. He dropped his mouth to Derek’s jaw, his throat, kissing and nipping any inch of skin he could reach. “You feel insane. You take me so perfectly.”
The praise sank into Derek’s skin, hotter than any touch. He could feel the climax building, a coil of lightning in his gut, unrelated to any friction on his own neglected cock. It was all internal, sparked by the drag and fill of Scott inside him, by the words in his ear. “Scott… I’m gonna come. Just like this. Keep going.”
Scott groaned, the sound rough with awe. He hooked his hands under Derek’s knees, hiking his legs up higher, driving into a deeper, more relentless angle. The bed began to rock in earnest, the headboard knocking a steady, undeniable rhythm against the wall.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Derek didn’t care. Let the whole house hear. Let them know. Scott’s expression was fierce with possession, clearly loving the loud, public evidence of it. Derek looked up at him, at the sweat beading on his temple, the focused set of his mouth, and was overcome by a wave of awe so profound it tipped him over the edge.
He came untouched, a silent, seizing release that made his vision bleach white. His body clamped down on Scott’s, milking him through the pulses. Scott swore, his rhythm fracturing into hard, pounding thrusts. “Derek—fuck—”
He followed, spending himself deep with a shuddering growl, collapsing forward to bury his face in Derek’s neck as he emptied everything he had.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the house waking up. Scott stayed inside him, a heavy, spent weight. Gradually, his mouth found Derek’s again. The kisses were lazy now, sated, a slow exchange of breath more than passion.
“The wall,” Derek mumbled eventually, his lips brushing Scott’s with each word.
Scott smiled against his mouth. “Sounded like applause.”