Tag: magic!stiles

sterekvalentine2016:

Title: Not Quite Johnny Storm

Recipient: bistiles

Summary: When Stiles has a run in with a fire demon who might possibly be Satan’s mother, things go very wrong very quickly. So what’s the solution?

Soul bonding sex magic under the full moon, of course.

Rating: Explicit

A/N: So many thanks to my beta, L. Bistiles, your sign-up was amazing and gave me so many ideas! I hope you love this as much as I did writing it for you.

To the mods, you’re both so wonderful! Thank you for for all your hard work.

–

The forest leading up to the Preserve blurred around Stiles, the trees whipping past faster than normal. He half-turned, gasping and panting as he looked to see if she was closing in, only to trip over a tree root and plunge down a shallow ravine. Grabbing at his knee as it was wrenched in the fall, Stiles pushed with his magic until the pain was muted and then rolled back to his feet.

He didn’t have far to go. A few hundred yards and he’d be there, inside the wards edging the pack’s territory. He had to last a little longer. Just… a little…

A crashing noise made him sob out his next breath, and he ran, begging the universe to help him make it to the boundary.

Unfortunately… the universe wasn’t listening.

The blow hit him between the shoulders, propelling him forward too fast, too hard. He hit the packed earth on his bad knee, the pain making him white out as a scream – oh, that was his own – rent the air. When he rolled to a stop on his back, he blinked his watery eyes open and saw nothing but gleaming red lips curled back from sharp teeth and demon-black eyes.

His body too weakened by pain to fight, Stiles raised his hands and opened his mouth, blasting the creature with pure, unbound magic.

–

Stiles woke up screaming, his nerves consumed by the fire that was burning through him. Hands grabbed him, holding him down, and he didn’t try to fight them. He’d worry about outside threats when he didn’t have lava dissolving his insides.

The hands on his shoulders turned cool, banking the fire and dragging it from him one flame at a time until the roaring in his ears stopped. Body wracked by occasional sobs of pain, Stiles opened his eyes, flinching from the harsh, white lights glaring directly into his brain.

“–ilinski? Stiles! I need you to acknowledge that you can hear me.” The light blurred across his vision, then disappeared to be replaced by vivid splotches that finally resolved into the familiar face of Alan Deaton.

“Oh, fuck.” In a more lucid moment, Stiles would have chosen wittier words to greet the fact that he was not actually being tortured in the fiery depths of hell. But the stark honesty of the phrase encapsulated exactly how he felt about not just being awake and in pain, but waking up in pain on Deaton’s table.

Stiles didn’t trust Deaton. The man was all the bad parts of both Dumbledore and Voldemort, evidenced by his willingness to sacrifice teenagers to his cause and his bald head.

“I’ll assume you’re back with us.”

A low whimper echoed around him, and for a minute, Stiles thought it had come from himself. But then he felt those heavenly ice-hands clench, and he rolled his eyes from one side to the other to see both Scott and Derek straining, their faces creased in painful grimaces as the red from Scott’s alpha eyes and the blue from Derek’s glowed through their eyelids.

Huh. Cool party trick.

“What are…” Stiles looked down and to the right to see that Scott’s veins were throbbing. It looked like snakes were slithering up under the skin of his arms, which made Stiles’ stomach turn. He didn’t need to look to know that Derek’s were the same; he could feel Derek pulling the scorching pain from him.

“You’ve been dabbling in magic.” Deaton’s voice was as bland as usual, but Stiles caught the undercurrent of criticism.

“Yep. Started about,” Stiles had to pause to cough, his throat feeling like it had when he’d caught strep in third grade, “five years ago. Some dude gave me a huge bag of magical ash and told me to believe. Because a seventeen year old high school student with no supernatural talent should definitely be the one to keep a murderous lizard monster contained.” If Stiles hadn’t already been laid out on the exam table, he would have collapsed backward in exhaustion after that rant.

“Be that as it may,” Deaton murmured, apparently unconcerned with Stiles’ opinion of him. “Your dabbling has had consequences. When you unleashed the full force of your magic on the…”

“Caorthannach,” Stiles supplied with a grimace. While Deaton turned toward the Cabinet of Smelly Things™ with a long-suffering sigh, Stiles explained to Scott, “A caorthannach is–“

“The devil’s mother. A fire demon?!” Derek hissed, face lined with a combination of pain and incredulity.

“Hey! Calm your judgy tits, dude. I’m the injured party here. Let me explain.” Stiles paused, considering. “No, there is too much. Let me sum up. I insulted a fire demon who might be Satan’s mother after I met her at a bar and invited her back to my place. She burned my apartment down – with my phone inside – and pursued me back to good ol’ BH, where she spat a fireball on the Jeep, which is now, hah, toast, and…” Stiles’ words croaked to a halt, half because his throat was fucking parched and half because Derek’s hold was getting painful.

Also, Derek was whining, high and fearful.

Which, yeah, things burning to the ground was probably not a good mental image for him.

By the time Derek realized what he was doing and let up a little, Stiles was ready to continue. "She caught up to me before I could cross our wards. I thought I was going to die, so I just… believed. I believed that my magic could stop her.“

Everyone went quiet with a stillness that was a little unnerving, prompting Stiles to look around. "What? What haven’t you told me?”

“Well,” Scott said with forced cheer. “You definitely stopped her.”

“Okay. That’s good, right?” When Scott bit his lip, avoiding Stiles’ gaze, Stiles demanded, “Right?”

“It appears that whatever you did drew her power – too much for the human form to contain – into your body,” Deaton called from across the room. "For the moment, we can alleviate the symptoms with this.“ Deaton held up a bottle filled with clear liquid. "The long-term solution will require a bit of time and planning.” Then his lips curled into a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "But congratulations. You did destroy her. I assumed, considering her complete transformation to stone, that she was a gorgon.“

"I… turned her to stone?”

“She was an ancient being whose existence was dependent on her power. When you eliminated it, her corporeal form became petrified.”

Stiles tried to organize the chaos in his mind, numbly accepting the bottle as Deaton extended it toward him. "What’s this?“

"Holy water to combat the hellfire currently consuming you.”

“Oh. No Johnny Storm transformation for me, huh?” Stiles shrugged and tipped his head up, wincing as he strained his already over-taxed muscles. The first sip just… tasted like water, but with each consecutive swallow the fire inside him was slowly extinguished. "You have chosen wisely,“ Stiles quoted under his breath when the bottle was finally empty and his body felt somewhat normal again.

Staring into the empty glass, Stiles asked idly, "So what’s the long-term solution, then?”

–

Derek paced restlessly, unable to sit comfortably due to the plug seated in his ass.

“Soul bonding sex magic under the full moon,” Stiles muttered, his voice reaching Derek even though he was halfway across the clearing. "I swear my life is like a bad MTV reality show, only instead of 16 And Pregnant, it’s … 21 And Furry or something.“

"You’re human,” Derek reminded him, eyes cast skyward as he tracked the path of the moon across the sky.

“I’m obviously the plucky sidekick to Scott’s main character.” Stiles went quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Dude, I know we’ve already discussed this, but–“

"Enough, Stiles. I’m not being a ‘self-sacrificing idiot.’” Derek had heard enough of that phrase over the last month to last him a lifetime.

Stiles picked at the soles of his shoes for a while, struggling with an emotion Derek didn’t recognize by scent before he broke under the strain of the quiet. "I just don’t like this,“ Stiles finally blurted out.

Stumbling to a halt, Derek turned toward Stiles, horror filling him. For all that Stiles had been adamant to ensure Derek didn’t feel forced into this bonding ritual… maybe Stiles did?

Obviously reacting to whatever Derek’s face was doing, Stiles waved his hands and squawked. "No, no! I’m not withdrawing consent! I promise. It’s just–” Stiles’ shoulders drew up as he fumbled for words. "Our whole schtick is saving each other. But this time, it’s you saving me for the rest of my life. And possibly dying. If that happens… I can’t save you back.“ Stiles plucked at a frayed thread on his jeans. "And… I don’t want you to die.”

Derek dropped to his knees before Stiles, losing his breath a little when the plug in his ass shifted. But the fear in Stiles’ eyes brought him back on topic quickly. “Hey. Stop that. I’m a born wolf; my body can handle the power. I won’t die.”

Stiles held up a finger. "But you could.“

"Fine,” Derek huffed. "If I do, I’m dragging you to hell with me, so we’ll be even. Again.“

"But… if we do this, it’s forever. We’d basically be married.” Stiles’s gaze wandered over Derek’s face, making him wonder exactly what Stiles saw. “You’d be stuck with me forever.”

Derek’s hand came up, hovering just under Stiles’ jaw when he almost forgot himself, almost touched and ruined the ritual. "Not stuck. I volunteered, remember? You…” He dropped his hand again, fingers clenching into a fist at his side.

“Hey, now,” Stiles muttered, stretching his own fingers out only to snatch them back. “I’m not exactly in tears over my fate here. Pretty sure my thing for you has been obvious to the most casual observer since day one.“ Stiles stared at him expectantly, then finally prompted, "Now you tell me I was pretty.”

Derek snorted, amused and horrified in equal measure at the very thought. “You were sixteen with a buzz cut.”

“Awww, did you have awkward boners for my jailbait ass?”

“No.” Derek rolled to his feet to continue pacing, done with that conversation.

“Ouch. Cold, dude.” Stiles clutched his chest, though his scent smelled warm and happy. "Okay, well! Lucky for you, adult me has a few tricks up my sleeve. Because obviously we’re doing this, but we have to time it right. Which means I get to bang that booty at the moon’s zenith, but no touchy-touchy before then because I have to be ‘pure of body.’ And let me tell you, remaining pure of body this week has been hell.“

Derek groaned softly, that mental image enough to make his ass clench down on the plug and steal his breath again. Had the moon ever risen so slowly? Then, because bantering with Stiles was always a good way to pass the time, he muttered, "Just because there is porn on the internet doesn’t mean you’re required to watch it, Stiles.”

“Thanks for the tip, asshole.”

Derek stopped pacing just to widen his eyes in faux concern. "It has to be more than just the tip, Stiles. Though I am glad to know you’re concerned about my asshole.“

Affecting an air of cockiness, Stiles leaned back on his hands, thrusting his crotch into the air. "Haven’t you been practicing with the Ass Blaster 3000?” Cackling at the way Derek’s face twisted, Stiles finally calmed enough to say, “Seriously, though. Remember Robb?”

Derek’s hands curled into fists to hide the way his claws edged out at that name as jealousy coiled through him. "Do you honestly think this is the appropriate time to mention your incubus ex?“

Snorting, Stiles rolled his eyes. "Robb was less an ex and more a fuck buddy of the incubus persuasion.”

Derek turned away, his eyes glowing blue.

“Really, he was one of the people helping me figure out the whole magic thing and since he was a–”

“Sex demon?”

“Exactly! Most of what we did was sex magic. Less ‘soul bonding under the light of the full moon’ and more ‘edge your partner from across the room,’ though. And since we have time to kill, I thought…” Stiles wiggled his fingers, grinning.

Derek’s breath caught. "Stiles, you can’t–“

”Pure in body were the exact words Deaton used. And technically I’m not doing anything to make my body impure.“

This time when Stiles’ fingers twitched, Derek felt them. Ghostly touches that stroked down his sides and tripped over his hipbones before dragging up to circle his nipples.

"Stiles,” Derek warned, hands clenching.

“Yeah?”

“You–”

Stiles flicked his fingers again, grinning when the top button on Derek’s jeans popped open. "You should probably take those off.“ He coughed, licking his lips. "No need for modesty now.”

Derek stared at Stiles for a long moment, using his senses to cheat a little. To smell the arousal, the want rolling off Stiles. And then, because no one brought out the asshole in him like Stiles Stilinski, Derek stepped forward, close enough to really touch, and performed the slowest, most lewd strip tease of his life. By the time he was done, Stiles’ jeans were straining at the zipper, his every breath a low moan.

When he was finally completely nude, Derek turned and reached back, spreading his ass cheeks to show off the thick, black plug splitting him open.

“Fuck,” Stiles groaned, his hand drifting toward his own dick, forcing Derek to make a sharp sound.

“No touching.”

Stiles nodded, eyes hungrily tracking the way the light gleamed across Derek’s body. He curled his fingers, then spread them, and pure magic jolted through Derek, latching onto the threads of his arousal and tugging, pulling it to the surface.

Derek cried out, dropping to his knees again, claws cutting into his own thighs as he felt the beta shift take him, control stripped away in the face of the pure lust blowing through his body.

“Whoa,” Stiles breathed, his scent sharpening further with arousal.

Derek looked up, blinking. "This… is okay?“

"Dude, you are beautiful in every form.” Stiles shrugged, hips twitching, humping the air. "And, I mean, seeing you lose control because of me? Yeah, that’s… fucking hot.“

Derek’s lips curled into a fierce smile when he heard Stiles’ heart racing and his breath stuttering, arousal bleeding off him. "I think you just have a danger kink.”

“I think I have a you kink,” Stiles muttered.

The air shifted, magic and power filling the clearing. Derek lifted his nose, scenting it, eyes tracking the moon. "Strip,“ he growled. "It’s almost time.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles wasted no time, shoving at his own clothing until his jeans and underwear were bunched around his ankles, his arm caught at an awkward angle when his shirt didn’t come free of his head.

Derek crawled toward Stiles, slipping his shoes – and his jeans and underwear – off his feet while very deliberately not touching his skin. And then he dragged his hands along Stiles’ legs, keeping them far away enough to avoid contact, but so close the dark hair on Stiles’ thighs stood on end, reaching toward him.

“Please,” Stiles whispered, shifting his hips.

Derek looked up, met Stiles’ dark, pleading gaze and leaned in… close enough for his humid breath to bathe Stiles’ straining, red cock, but not actually touching.

“Derek!”

Derek raised an eyebrow, filled with a dark joy at watching Stiles come undone from just a little teasing.

Eyes narrowing, Stiles lifted his hands, doing something that made the plug in Derek’s ass feel like it was vibrating.

“You… bastard,” Derek coughed, choking on his own arousal as his body clenched with need.

And then the power of the moon blew over them both, forcing Stiles to his knees. "Take out the plug, take it out. Oh my god, you slow bastard, I’ll do it myself!“ Stiles, exhibiting a strength that always shocked Derek no matter how many times he experienced it, pushed Derek over onto his back, long fingers gripping Derek’s thighs only to lift and push them, pressing his knees almost into his chest.

Derek grabbed them, allowing Stiles to twist the plug out of his ass, making him keen wildly as he went from feeling stiff and full to too empty. Then came a sloppy splash of lube followed by the thick, living heat of Stiles pressing fully into Derek until he felt like he could taste him.

Stiles collapsed forward, one hand tangling in Derek’s hair to pull his head up, Stiles’ lips sealing over Derek’s in a wild ride of a first kiss as the moon crested and the demonic power in Stiles surged between them, rioting back and forth. It crashed through Derek painfully, too hot, burning out everything but the arousal that still rode him until it finally leveled out, leaving Derek with a too-familiar feeling.

"You okay?” Stiles asked, teeth scraping Derek’s lip.

Derek breathed out slowly, hands clenching on Stiles’ hips until his claws began to press against skin. "I’m,“ Derek started, then licked his lips and opened eyes that bathed Stiles’ face in a crimson glow. "I’m an Alpha again.” Staring at Stiles, who was stock-still on top of him, Derek let loose a wide, feral grin before he clenched down nastily, forcing a broken moan from Stiles.

“Oh god,” Stiles groaned, a small laugh burbling from him. "You’re going to be just as obnoxious about that this time around too, aren’t you?“

"Maybe,” Derek sassed, eyebrows wiggling. "What are you going to do about it?“

Stiles’ answering grin was distinctly evil as he lifted his hand and did something with his magic that drew Derek’s orgasm to the surface, only to choke it off completely. It was wild and raw and… Oh fuck. Stiles had mentioned practicing edging…

While Derek strained, hips lifting and rolling as he searched for release, Stiles cackled and sent more tendrils of magic through Derek. "Who’s the Alpha now?”