It's a marathon, not a sprint.

Title: The Perfect Fit
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: No
Genre: AU, Dark
Warnings: Briefly mentions past sexual assault
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made
Author Notes: Big thank you to ixchel55 for the beta.

Summar: Stiles and Derek. A basement and lots of sharp intruments






Something was missing in Derek’s life but he had no clue what it was or how he could find what was missing. For the past week Derek had meticulously cleaned up the basement. Now no one would be able to tell it was a place where Derek tortured others for his Uncle Peter.

He sighed and squashed the feeling of boredom as he inspected his tools, cleaning and oiling the ones that needed it. He hoped Peter brought him something to do soon.

Although…there was a certain lack of thrill these days. People were so weak. They gave up much too easily and told him what he needed to know before he really could get into his work. There were no surprises anymore. Just the thick smell of fear and desperation.

Even the ones that managed to get angry and curse at him didn’t do so for long. They too eventually broke and gave him what he wanted.

He needed a challenge.

Two days later Peter carried an unconscious boy down into the basement and Derek got his wish.
　



Derek prepared his lunch and kept an eye on the small TV screen that let him watch their guest in the basement. He was tied to a chair but hadn’t woken up yet. Derek had taken his guest's socks and shoes off. He found that people felt more vulnerable without them. He took a bite of his sandwich and kept watching the video feed. Derek hadn’t decided if he wanted to be there when he first opened his eyes or let the boy wait for a few hours.

He did enjoy the fear and confusion that all their guests showed, so he quickly finished lunch and relieved himself.

Maybe this one would be different but he doubted it. Peter had already sent him a text with the questions he wanted answered.

An hour later, Derek sat in a chair situated ten feet from the boy as he began to stir. Derek wore his usual uniform of black shirt, black pants, and black boots. He also wore his black leather gloves. He knew the gloves were particularly intimidating.

When the boy opened his eyes, Derek watched the realization come into them. But the boy didn’t seem as panicked as he should have. He looked around the room, and Derek wondered if he was looking for an exit or maybe any weapons he could use if he got free.

Derek was intrigued. Most people started demanding to be let loose right away, indignation and fear coloring the tone of their voice and making Derek roll his eyes. That or they started crying big alligator tears and trying to bargain with Derek. But this boy with his eyes like fine aged bourbon was quiet. He finally looked at Derek and studied him for a few minutes before sighing.

“Is it kidnapping time again?”

Derek cocked his head to the side and studied the boy closer. He looked nervous and aggravated but not scared or angry. Derek’s voice was a quiet rumble.

“Again?”

The boy briefly smiled and shrugged. “Yep. Sorry if you thought you were special. I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

Derek frowned. He knew from Peter’s rambled text that this was Stiles Stilinski, son of a sheriff two towns over. His father was building a case against the Solomons and it was rumored that Stiles was helping him. Therefore, they needed to know what this kid knew. Did someone else get to him before Peter?

“When were you kidnapped?”

Stiles laughed and studied the basement again. His gaze paused at the drain in the floor before he answered.

“Not recently if that’s what’s worrying you. The first time was when I was seven. Freddie was a clown, and I mean a literal clown. He just wanted someone to play with, to have tea parties with him. That man loved tea parties.”

Derek crossed his arms and exhaled. He really should get to work but he was curious. There was nothing wrong with satisfying his curiosity.

“Tea party?”

Stiles nodded and grinned. It was a little off, but Derek ignored the slight warning in his gut.

“Yeah, complete with stuffed animals in attendance. We had like eight tea parties in the three days before my dad found me. He also loved Scooby-Doo, though we both agreed Scrappy was just holding Scooby back.”

Derek gave a huff of laughter at that. “Did he touch you?”

Stiles smirked like he knew the question was coming and he probably had. “Freddie liked to cuddle, but that was it. It was a little scary, but once I figured he just wanted someone to snuggle with, it wasn’t bad.”

He frowned. “I had a hard time convincing anyone of that. They all seemed to really want Freddie to be a Pedo. He wasn’t though. He just wanted to drink his tea from tiny cups and watch Scooby-Doo.”

Derek stood up and ran a hand over his tools. Stiles didn’t start to beg or plead, just watched him and hummed quietly to himself. Derek picked up a small knife and tested the edge. He loved knives, or anything that could cut so swiftly and deeply. He asked the next question that was on his mind.

“You said that was the first time?”

Stiles nodded and squirmed as if trying to get comfortable in the hard wooden chair. His hands were handcuffed behind him but he acted like he was just casually sitting with Derek, talking about his day.

“Second time was when I was twelve. Three guys that were mad at my dad.” Derek sat back down as Stiles looked at the floor. “Two of the guys just hit me a couple of times to send a message to my dad. The third one waited until the others left, and then he told me how pretty I was.”

He raised his head and sneered at Derek. “Wanna ask if he touched me too?”

Derek frowned. “Going by your attitude, I’m assuming he did.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Joel liked them young. When he was done he left my hands untied. I guess he thought I’d be too traumatized to try something.” His smile was as sharp as one of Derek's blades. He leaned forward as Stiles continued talking.

“The fucker fell asleep and I cut his throat with a box cutter. Then I threw up, got dressed, and ran. Someone pulled over for me a few minutes or hours later. I really don’t remember.”

Derek leaned back in his chair and nodded his head. He wasn’t surprised at Stiles’ next question.

“You like them young?”

“Sexual assault is…” he scrunched his face in distaste and shook his head. “Too brutish. There is nothing to be gained from it.”

Stiles laughed. “Well, aren’t you the torture snob.”

Derek shrugged and stood up. “We can skip some of my techniques if you tell me what you know about the Solomons.”

Stiles sighed and seemed to go boneless in the chair as if he were trying to conserve his energy for what lay ahead. Derek approved.

There was no way to know how long an interrogation would go and if Stiles wanted to try and brace himself, Derek didn’t mind. It wouldn’t help, but he didn’t mind.

The next two hours were interesting. Derek started with knives, though he should have started with his fists. Stiles didn’t beg, just grunted and cried out at the sharp cuts on his arms and chest. Derek asked his questions over and over. He got the standard, ‘I don’t know,’ but that was it.

He took a break and drank a bottle of water, before offering a bottle to Stiles, a straw inside so he didn’t have to struggle. Stiles’ panting was loud in the quiet of the basement.

Derek perked up at his guest's voice. He’d never admit it but he liked it. It was unexpectedly soothing.

“Don’t you want to hear about the third time?”

Derek smirked. “I refuse to believe you got kidnapped for a third time. After the first two times your father should have had you locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

Stiles laughed then coughed for a few moments. “You would think so, but we came to an agreement a long time ago that we couldn’t live in fear of what might happen.”

Derek crouched down out of range of Stiles’ long legs and picked up a broken piece of a mirror. It was crude tool, but he liked it. Liked making his guests look at themselves while he gently told them it could all stop so easily if they just told him what he needed to know.

“So tell me about this third time.”

Stiles nodded and wiped blood off his cheek with a roll of his right shoulder. “I was fifteen. Two guys and a woman. I guess we had a way to go in terms of travel so they had me tied with a rope around my hands in the back seat.” He leaned forward. “They’d tied my hands but left them in front of me." He shook his head and made a tsking noise. "Amateurs.”

Derek sat back down. “What did you do?”

“By this time, you can understand that I was a little paranoid and perhaps prepared if someone managed to snatch me.”

Derek nodded. Stiles looked like a smart boy. He could see him being prepared as best he could.

Stiles slouched down in the seat. “I had a sharp pencil on me and well, it wasn’t pretty when I jabbed it into the neck of the guy sitting next to me in the back seat. He screamed and god, it was so loud. I pulled it out of his neck.” His eyes met Derek’s. “You always go for the soft spot, am I right?”

Derek tapped a gloved finger against his own lips and nodded his head.

Stiles continued his story.

“The woman, I think her name was Clair, I used my tied hands as a club and managed to hit her hard enough that her head bounced off the window of the car and made her dizzy long enough for me to get the rope my hands were tied with around the driver’s neck.”

Stiles smiled. “The rope made a pretty good garrote. I mean they were all freaking out about the geyser of blood the guy beside me had become. It was easy to make the car crash.”

Derek felt a shiver of unease crawl up his spine. He ignored it and stood back up to get on with his questioning. Behind him, Stiles spoke before he could pick a tool.

“The leader’s named Harry. Harry Solomon. There’s a guy named Dick and his son, Tommy. The sister, Sally, is the muscle.”

Derek frowned. Those names sounded familiar and that was way too easy. He turned and it was only his quick reflexes that prevented his throat from being cut by a suddenly free Stiles.

A line of fire right below his collarbone had him gritting his teeth and using the jagged piece of mirror he’d grabbed, to slash out. Stiles danced away and smirked.

“You didn’t hear the rest of my story, Derek.”

Derek didn't freeze though Stiles knowing his name wasn't good. Instead he kept his eyes on the lanky boy in front of him.

He dodged another lunge and realized Stiles had an Exacto Knife. The boy’s breath was steady as he twirled the knife one handed and started talking.

“When the car crashed, it finished off the guy in the back and the woman. My makeshift garrote killed the driver. I got out with a broken arm and some dislocated fingers. Turns out I can dislocate one of my thumbs and a few fingers anytime I want.”

He spun and caught Derek across his ribs. His voice held a sing song rhythm that didn't go with the gleaming knife he handled like an expert.

“I practiced for so long, it doesn‘t even hurt anymore.”

Derek tracked his movements and the next time he moved in, but didn’t really try to cut Derek before moving away, he lashed out and caught Stiles across the shoulder with the mirrored glass. When his movements faltered, Derek pressed his advantage and slammed a fist into Stiles' jaw.

They ended up on the floor, Derek on top of Stiles, one hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand that still held the Exacto knife.

Derek was panting, his heart was pounding and blood trickled from a lucky shot to his mouth. He wasn’t bored and that was all that mattered. He smiled, the blood blurring his white teeth and dripping onto Stiles' neck.

He squeezed Stiles wrist until he dropped his weapon. “Was any of what you told me true? Have you ever been kidnapped?”

Stiles laughed and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and squeezed. He shifted and his thighs were around Derek’s ribs. He knew the next step was going to be to try and cut off his breathing.

He placed one hand around Stiles’ throat and pressed down. “You really want to see which one of us will black out first?”

Stiles’ legs relaxed and he smiled. “Only two of the three stories I told you were true.” He lifted his head and licked Derek’s chin just as his phone chimed. His voice was an excited whisper.

“That’ll be your uncle. He’s got a message for you.”

Derek ground down against the body under him and laughed at the flare of lust in Stiles’ eyes. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Stiles shuddered and rubbed his hard-on against Derek's. “Well, your uncle believes in unique job interviews. He mentioned something about wanting to branch out and you might want someone to play with.” He cautiously wrapped one leg around Derek’s thigh. “Wanna play?”

Derek studied the boy beneath him. He hadn’t mentioned his growing restlessness, but Peter would have seen the signs and taken steps to rid Derek of his ennui. He got up and grabbed his phone.

When Stiles rose up on his elbows, Derek put a foot on his chest and kept it there as Stiles lay back down.

His uncle’s voice sounded cheery. “How’s he working out? Tried to kill you yet?”

Derek laughed, a brief exhale of air while Stiles grinned at him and kissed the tip of his boot. That shouldn’t have turned him on but it did. Derek couldn’t wait to see what else Stiles had in mind.

“He tried. Almost succeeded.”

Peter laughed. “Is he hired?”

Derek shrugged and pressed harder on Stiles’ chest with his boot.

“Trial basis, three months. Doesn’t work out, I kill him slowly.”

Peter snorted. “Deal. Don’t wear him out. I won’t be giving you any more new toys for some time.”
　
Derek hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. He thought about keeping pressure on Stiles' chest with his boot. They were still getting to know each other and he had a feeling he could crack one of Stiles' ribs with the pressure and Stiles wouldn't flinch, but he'd pay Derek back somehow.

Maybe they could revisit that later. Derek moved his foot and stuck out a hand to pull Stiles up. He held his new partner's chin and inspected the bruise. Stiles held still but he looked feral and wild, his eyes narrowed on Derek's face. When Derek let him go, Stiles surged forward and pressed a messy kiss to Derek's lips, teeth sharp and quick.

When he pulled away, Derek grabbed his head and kept him there, letting his mouth press hard and letting his teeth bite at tender soft lips. Stiles groaned and bit back until there was a hint of blood from both their mouths.

Stiles was already shirtless, blood dried and crusted on the few cuts from earlier. Derek would clean them later. Right now, he slid a hand down and squeezed Stiles' hard on. He breathed faster when that got him a shimmy and Stiles rubbing against his erection, panting and greedy. "I have one request."

Derek quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Stiles smirked and looked at Derek's hands. "Leave the gloves on."

Derek laughed and pushed Stiles down onto the cold concrete floor, shedding his clothes in seconds. When Stiles didn't even flinch as he was manhandled onto his hands and knees and Derek started licking at his hole, wet and sloppy, he figured he might have found the perfect person.

He slid one finger in his new partner's ass and bent closer to spit around the invading finger. He bit and licked up Stiles back and added another finger. Stiles squirmed and fucked back on Derek's gloved fingers, panting for more. Two should be enough with the added leather coating his digits and after a couple of thrusts, he pulled his fingers out and pushed his dick in.

Stiles was hot and tight, barely slick but just enough for Derek to pull almost all the way out and then push back in. He gripped Stiles' waist and sped up, hips pushing against his former prisoner's ass.

Stiles panted and arched his back, demanding more and more, harder, faster and Derek gave him what he wanted. When the body under him tightened, Derek threw his head back and groaned loudly. His orgasm sizzled down his spine and through his balls and he came, his fingers gripping Stiles' hips so hard the bruises would be like little works of art.

Derek blinked and slid a hand around Stiles' waist to stroke him hard and quick. He laughed at the curses that spilled from Stiles' mouth as he came, spilling onto the cold floor.

Derek sighed and pulled out before pushing Stiles' down and lying on top of him. He sucked marks into the back of Stiles' neck while his new lover hissed and begged for more.

After he was done, Derek moved off and lay there on the floor, already thinking about what else they could do. Stiles lay beside him and talked about any and everything. Usually Derek hated listening to someone ramble but this time he didn't bother him as much. Besides, if it ever did piss him off, he'd just find a unique way to make him be quiet.

End