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It doesn't technically start with the fight after Peter comes back to life. No, there are years and years of history before that; layers to their relationship that absolutely no one outside of it understands. But that's alright. Neither of them needs anyone else to understand. That's why they have each other, for what it's worth.
Incest is taboo, even among werewolves, if a little less so. But that's not the reason that it can be so troublesome, at least for the two of them. No, that's because it means that Peter has known Derek since the day he was born, and Derek has never known a life without his Uncle Peter, at least until those six years after the fire. That's a lot of history for two people to have. Some might even say it means they know each other too well.
That's why Derek doesn't make the mistake of thinking he's in charge, even as he throws Peter around the loft as a way to work out his frustration at the situation, at himself, at the aggression that the alpha power has imbued him with. Sure, technically, it might be because of Peter's words.
But he didn't want it, the alpha power. He never wanted it. But he had to take it away from Peter. He had to stop him by any means necessary. Not that it matters, now that he's back. And being incredibly cavalier about the whole thing, of course, because that's Peter all over. Always has been. Never takes anything seriously, until the moment he takes it too seriously and it's already too late.
Fucking him isn't an answer, not in the least, but it's something that Derek's body knows how to do. It's something that Peter isn't stopping him from taking - because Derek is under no illusions about the fact that he could stop Derek if he really wanted to. He wouldn't even find himself all that surprised if Peter had orchestrated this; said what he did just to provoke Derek into some kind of response, or maybe even specifically this response.
"Get naked," he says, and is satisfied when Peter listens. If he didn't want to do it, he wouldn't. That's good enough for Derek. He follows his own order, too, desperate for skin on skin contact. He's an alpha, he has betas, but they don't act like a pack. They don't share scent, or even really spend all that much time together. Mostly because he bit three high school students - four if he counts Jackson, but since he didn't turn, he doesn't really count Jackson. The only one who even seems to want to spend time around him is Isaac, and that's only because his situation at home is so bad.
There's a little bit of arousal there, too, but Derek steadfastly ignores it. He's not going to be Isaac's alpha, pseudo-dad, and fuckbuddy. There's no chance in fucking hell. It makes him want to encourage skin on skin contact with Isaac even less, lest he get the wrong idea.
But he can fuck Peter. Or get fucked by Peter. This time, he's going to fuck Peter, but he's okay with both. Privately, he hopes there'll be both, if there is a next time and a time after that and so forth.
"Go to my room, and get on the bed. If you don't, I'll assume you want it on the floor." He smiles, bares his teeth. "You'll want it on the bed."
Peter practically scrambles to obey, and Derek rolls his shoulders, lets some of the tension bleed out of his neck. Despite the posturing, he has no desire to actually hurt Peter. Peter would stop him, anyway, he's pretty sure. He lazily jacks his cock as he follows Peter at a much more sedate pace. It's not even for pleasure, necessarily, just making sure he's ready to get inside Peter as soon as he's ready enough.
When he reaches his room, he's almost surprised to see Peter on his back, instead of on his hands and knees. He didn't specify, though, and Peter has still obeyed his instructions, so he lets it go. Derek's personal lubricant has also ended up on the bed next to Peter, and his game becomes crystal clear. Maybe he didn't think he'd get thrown around the loft first, but this was the outcome that Peter was angling for from the start. Derek really, really should've known. Either way, he doesn't necessarily care that he's been played into this. He still wants to fuck Peter, so he's going to.
He picks the lube up before he gets on the bed with Peter. "Thoughtful of you," he sneers down at his uncle, before he sloppily drizzles lube over his fingers and just pushes his middle finger in without another word. Derek doesn't have quite as much space as he'd like this way, so he wrenches one of Peter's legs up over his shoulder before he starts prodding at his hole with a second wet finger. It'd be too soon, for anyone else, but Peter is a werewolf and he can take it. Derek's still confident that he'll push Derek off of him if he really doesn't want it at any point, but so far he seems to just be moaning like a whore, so he keeps pushing.
Derek works the second finger inside of him and immediately starts scissoring them, aiming for a good enough stretch over pleasure for Peter, of course. He could bother to find Peter's prostate, but he's not going to. Maybe later, if he's feeling generous, but certainly not right now. Not when Peter hasn't done a goddamn thing to earn it. He earns the third finger easily enough, though, by the way he continues pushing back on Derek's fingers; practically begging to be fucked like a whore.
Well, he gets it. Derek pulls his fingers out, uses the excess lube to slick himself up then wipes the excess on Peter's hip, and slides inside of him to the sound of his protests at the treatment. Derek's satisfied when Peter's words cut off, and he only gives himself a moment to adjust before he starts all-out fucking Peter. Again, he's not aiming for Peter's prostate, or making sure he's stretched enough. If he smelled blood, he'd stop. Probably. Honestly, at this point, he doesn't know for sure, and that gives him pause. Makes him slow down just a little, makes him focus more on what he's doing and gaining pleasure rather than punishing Peter.
Regardless, Peter seems to be getting off on being used like Derek's personal fleshlight. That's also something that Derek doesn't want to look to heavily into, so he buckles down and focuses on his body. He feels the tight clench of Peter's body around him; the heat and silkiness. He feels Peter's skin under his hands, his grip tight enough to bruise but not in a way that matters to a werewolf. In a way that will linger, given his alpha strength, but not permanently harm.
He's not talking, though, and that's the one thing that sticks out to Derek as odd. Peter is always talking, like he'll fall ill if he's not. Just before this, Peter was running his fucking mouth about Derek's choices in giving the bite to teenagers and about 'letting' Gerard Argent run around unchecked (as if he has the answers to fix that fucking problem in particular). But he's not, now. He's far from silent, but he's not talking, and Derek doesn't fucking know what to make of that. He decides not to make anything of it all, and just fucks and fucks and fucks until he's filling Peter up.
Peter's cock is hard, almost painfully so, and right within Derek's grasp. He doesn't take hold, though. He pulls out of Peter and tells him, "I gave you what you wanted. Take care of that yourself."
He stalks out of his own bedroom, cleans himself up, and gets dressed. He doesn't stay to see what Peter makes of his abandonment; just leaves the loft and heads to run the perimeter.
Derek would've been a fool to think that would be the last of it; that fucking Peter once would be enough to get it out of either of their systems. Still, he doesn't see it coming when the door to his bathroom opens a few days later and he hears the sound of clothing hitting the floor before the curtain is pulled back and Peter steps inside with him without so much as a word of greeting.
"Peter," he grits out. "Are you fucking insane?"
And of course, Peter laughs. "Certifiably, according to some. But no, I've felt much more in control of myself lately. Why do you ask?"
Derek gestures wildly with the washcloth in his hand. "Because you've just walked into my fucking shower?"
Peter runs a proprietary hand down Derek's chest, stopping just shy of cupping Derek's soft dick, which gives a traitorous twitch. He would go to step back, but he's in the fucking shower. There's not exactly an abundance of free space, especially with Derek and Peter in here.
"And what, exactly, is insane about that, nephew? We're family, after all."
It's meant to hurt. Distantly, Derek wonders if this is supposed to be some sort of twisted payback for him leaving Peter hanging the other day. He doesn't care, regardless. He doesn't have the energy to deal with Peter's antics right now.
Ignoring Peter is probably a surefire way to guarantee that he won't go away, but it's the only tool in Derek's arsenal right now, so he goes with it. Uncaring of the fact that there's practically no distance between them at all, he continues methodically washing and rinsing his body, while Peter just fucking stands there, watching. It's voyeuristic and weird, and Derek's getting hard despite it all. Maybe because of it all. He doesn't want to think about it.
He wrings the washcloth out and slaps it against Peter's chest, then turns to grab the shampoo. He hears Peter drop the washcloth to the ground and grunts, annoyed, but Peter steals his breath when he turns back around and Peter's hand is immediately wrapping around both of their cocks. Derek's occupied with the shampoo in his hands and washing his hair so he just...lets it happen. He could stop Peter, if he really wanted to. If he needed to. But he doesn't. He just goes on shampooing his hair as the warm water enables the slick slide of their cocks together.
Water is no replacement for lube, but Derek's fine with things being a little bit rough. He prefers it that way, in fact. At least things being a little rough is honest for them. He wants to throw up every time he thinks about the soft way that Kate touched him, and all of her sickly sweet promises. The way he was too fucking stupid to recognize it for what it actually was. He closes his eyes, and tips his head back into the spray to start rinsing out the suds.
If he uses his eyes being closed to thrust forward into Peter's grip, it's no one's business but theirs. Peter doesn't have the pack's trust any more than Derek does. He may actually be the only person that they trust less than him. So if he wants to shock them, he can tell them all about this. But they'll either write it off as Peter being crazy, or add it to the list of things that they don't like about Peter or Derek. It doesn't give him any leverage over Derek, as far as he can tell. There's probably some angle that Peter's trying to work that Derek just can't see, but he can't spend all of his time trying to outthink Peter. It'll never work, and it'll only serve to exhaust him of the little energy he has remaining these days.
He doesn't stop moving his hips when he reaches for the conditioner, and he even pulls Peter's hand away for a moment to make his palm slick. Peter laughs at him, but he just lathers his own hands and sets the conditioner aside. Peter can laugh as much as he'd like. He's still the one acting like he's desperate for Derek; for his touch, for his attention, all of it.
It's better, admittedly, with the conditioner. Peter can squeeze tighter without the sting of too much friction. Derek takes his time finishing washing his hair and rinsing it out again, but then there's no more pretense of ignoring Peter. He hasn't exactly been doing a good job of it, with his active participation, but wrapping his hand around Peter's and realizing that Peter's is bigger and that does something for him feels damning. Everything that Derek does lately feels damning, though, so he follows through and fucks his cock against Peter's with their hands intertwined.
Peter comes first, shooting white against Derek's skin even as it's immediately washed away by the water, but he doesn't stop. He must get oversensitive, but he doesn't complain. Just like before, he talked and prodded Derek into starting this, but then got awfully silent while they were actually doing it. Derek should think about it, but he doesn't. He just chooses not to; chooses to keep thrusting until he grunts and comes too, and it's similarly washed away.
Then they're simply standing there, face to face as the water runs cold. Both of their chests are heaving. Derek feels like there's still something unfinished between them despite the come pooling and swirling down the drain. He reaches behind himself and blindly grabs for the taps to turn the water off. For some reason, breaking his eye contact with Peter feels wrong, but as soon as he turns the water off, Peter leaves the shower and grabs a towel, hastily making his way out of the room before Derek can figure out what to say.
He doesn't chase after him.
Every interaction that Derek has with this fucking 'alpha pack' makes him want to snarl and rend flesh with his teeth. He doesn't understand them. They say that they want him, but only desperate and as a killer. He doesn't want anything to do with them, but they aren't going to leave him alone. That much is clear. There has to be - he's not stupid, okay? He knows that there has to be something else that they're after. But he doesn't know what it is. And for all that he likes to act like he's simply smarter than everyone else, neither does Peter.
He wishes that he could, at least, slam the loft door. It's completely unsatisfactory to slide it shut, even with the force behind it that he uses. He knows that he doesn't have a headache, not in the way that other people get them, but it feels like it. There's still just tension in his neck and stress behind his eyes that just won't dissipate.
Derek blames the not-headache for the fact that he's distracted enough not to notice Peter's concentrated scent coming from his room until he pushes the door open and he's just there. Peter. In his bed, uninvited. He steps into the room, anyway.
It's obvious that he's seen Peter, and that even if his eyes stopped working, he's sensed him anyway. But he still acts like Peter's not there. It's stupid, he knows, to play this kind of game. He's being transparent. He's acting like he's in control when it's obvious that Peter is, and he's just letting himself be goaded and manipulated but...
For all that it's obvious, it's familiar. And Derek doesn't have a lot of familiar things in his life, these days. They're older now, sure, and Derek can't pretend that nothing has changed, but this is still the same. Peter is still the same, for all that comes with it.
He goes about his business, and Peter is just there, not even bothering to say anything. It's obvious - once again - what he wants. And Derek knows he's going to give it to him. Still, he has to play along. If Peter's not going to initiate things, then that means that he wants Derek to.
"Get off my bed. On your knees, if you want it so fucking bad."
Peter just smirks and slides off of the bed in a move that shouldn't be smooth, but undoubtedly is. Derek doesn't remark on it; doesn't need to feed Peter's already massive goddamn ego, but he knows that Peter can tell he's impressed regardless.
Derek doesn't undress for this. He doesn't want to encourage the behavior - no matter how much he longs for contact with his pack, with his family - so he tries a different strategy from ignoring Peter this time around: giving him what he wants, but not the way he wants it. Giving it to him on Derek's terms, this time.
Of course, it likely won't last long. But he can try.
He just pulls his pants down far enough for Peter to have access to his cock, then arches an eyebrow. "Well?"
Peter snorts, and with the proximity, that exhale of hot air is right against Derek's skin. "No need to drop a line like 'it won't suck itself', Derek. I get the idea well enough."
"Clearly not, if you're still fucking talking."
Thankfully, Peter manages to take the hint and takes the tip of Derek's cock in his mouth. He's still mostly soft, but he can't deny that he's started associating Peter with getting off with how often he's been instigating this, and even that exhale was enough to start getting him aroused. It's definitely better with Peter's warm, wet mouth around him, though.
Peter starts to tease, and take things slowly, but Derek's not having it. He fits one of his hands to the back of Peter's head and starts pushing. He's not shoving Peter down on his cock or anything, not trying to force him to deepthroat (yet), just applying pressure. Just threatening what will happen if Peter doesn't get his act together.
He does start moving more in earnest, but Derek doesn't remove his hand, or release the pressure. He has to maintain some semblance of control here, with Peter. He's blurred the boundaries too far as it is.
One of Peter's hands moves up to cup Derek's balls and roll them in his palm, and Derek groans loudly, giving his first outward sign of really wanting it. He knows that Peter can tell that he wants it anyway, no matter what airs of indifference he puts on, but he seems to delight in the feedback, regardless. Derek resolves to give him as little of that as he can. He has to put a stop to this.
He watches as Peter presses his other hand to where his pants are bulging. He thinks about knocking it away, or telling Peter not to fucking touch himself, but he doesn't. Part of the problem that is that is hot that Peter wants this so badly; that even if it's a manipulation tactic or whatever, Peter does want him.
Derek's used to being wanted with ulterior motives. He can handle it. What he can't handle is the loss of his pack, again, and every way that Derek spins it, staying entangled Peter ends up with that happening. More than that, it ends with one or both of them dying, and he's just not interested in having that happen. He - he needs Peter, but not like this. He needs him in his life. He needs Peter to not be dead, never mind that Derek was the one who killed him.
"You can touch yourself, if you want. If you're that desperate for it. I don't care."
Peter gives no indication that he's heard Derek's condescension aside from unzipping his pants and pulling himself out. It's an impressive feat with one hand, given everything else that Peter's currently coordinating and the fact that he doesn't even pause. Still, all Derek gives him for it is a sneer, and more pressure on the back of his head.
He nearly is choking Peter out on his cock at this point, but it feels too goddamn good for him to care. Derek, as he always goes back to, knows that if Peter wanted to stop him, he still could. Derek would let Peter stop him; he's not a fucking monster.
"I know this isn't what you wanted, but I have to say, I think it's worked out just fucking fine on my end. And you don't seem to have any complaints.
"But Peter, this has to stop. I have a pack to lead. And whether you're going to be a part of it or not, we can't keep doing this."
It's pretty goddamn hypocritical to say while he literally comes in Peter's mouth and down his throat, but he has to say it. He has to make the lesson stick.
He doesn't stay to see if Peter finishes himself with the taste of Derek still on his lips. And he resolutely doesn't imagine it; doesn't imagine Peter wanting it so badly that he can't help himself even with Derek's abandonment.
It’s - well, Derek knows it’s not a healthy pattern that they've fallen into, because despite his insistence on the blowjob being the last time, it's not. But he just can’t help it. Everything else feels so far out of his control, and so far removed from the relatively normal life he once lived. This is in his control. Even if he’s allowing himself to be controlled, Peter is in his control. And Peter is there, by choice.
It’s enough until it isn’t. It’s - they used him. Intellectually, sure, he knows and understands that. Physically, he can’t get Boyd’s blood off of his hands. He doesn’t scrub with the vigor of Lady Macbeth, either. She didn't have Derek's remorse. It doesn’t feel like he should be able to get Boyd’s blood off of his hands.
God, he doesn’t even know who to call. He bit a kid - a teenager, yes, but still a kid (hadn’t Derek learned that lesson well enough) - and didn’t even bother to meet his family. He was supposed to be Boyd’s alpha. He was supposed to help him. Boyd and Erica are both dead and he dragged them into this.
He comes home to Peter in his bed again, but it's different this time. He's fingering himself and smelling like someone else, and Derek just fucking snaps. Sees nothing but red. His hands are on Peter, throwing him up against the wall before he even processes what he's doing.
"Is this all a fucking joke to you? These kids are fucking dying and it's my fault and I know it is, but you're just out fucking strangers while there's this threat to our pack? I shouldn't even call it that. This is my pack and you're - I don't even know if you're a part of it. I don't know if I can let you be a part of it if you're going to act like this."
Derek lets Peter go, because he shouldn't have thrown him up against the wall like that, and because he doesn't even want to look at him. He knows he bears the blame, he does, but fuck if he couldn't use Peter's help in this. Fuck if it wouldn't help if Peter was by his side, actually advising him instead of just fucking with his head.
"Just get out," he says, still refusing to look at Peter. "I can't - I can't - "
To his horror and embarrassment, he feels tears forming in his eyes. The last fucking thing he wants to do right now is cry in front of Peter, but he doesn't hear him obeying Derek's impotent order, so it seems like it's going to happen regardless.
Peter's hand falls on his shoulder, and he's still quiet and it still feels damning and it's everything he needs. He needs Peter's touch even if he'd never ask for it, or admit it to anyone, least of all Peter. His touch is light but his hand still feels heavy, and Derek collapses to his knees under the weight of it. Peter's touch doesn't break, though, and he even squeezes as Derek's knees hit the ground.
Derek weeps. It's ugly and horrible and Peter stays through all of it and doesn't say a fucking word. It's probably good that he's quiet, though. Derek doesn't know that there's anything at all that he could say that would make this better. Unless he's just got some magical solution to deal with the alpha pack, to bring Boyd and Erica back, but he doesn't. Nothing like that exists.
He's fucked things up beyond belief and to be honest, the best case scenario is just for them to kill him, at this point. It's an excuse, and it's cowardly, but it's really the only way that Derek sees out of this.
Except that Peter's hand is still on his shoulder. He does still have allies. Peter is here, and he may have sent Isaac away but he's still Derek's beta. Stiles always seems to be around, anyway, and he could probably be convinced to bring Scott into the fold. Maybe even Deaton. They still don't have a snowball's chance in hell against the alphas, more than likely, but better than Derek on his own.
Anything is better than Derek's efforts on his own. Anything.
He wipes the tears from his eyes, and pushes Peter back onto the bed. It's still horrible, the scent of other on what Derek now understands to be his, but he can live with it. As long as...
"I won't fuck you while you're full of someone else's scent," Derek says, stripping his clothes off. "But maybe this'll help convince you not to fucking stray again."
He reaches behind himself while Peter looks confused at his words, and eases a dry finger right around his rim. There's no way he can take Peter without lube, and he doesn't intend to, but it communicates his intentions to Peter pretty clearly, which is the actual goal.
"Fuck," Peter exhales, more than he actually says. "Are you - "
"If you ask me if I'm sure, I'll walk out of this room right now. I'm dead fucking serious, Peter. Get back on the bed."
Peter gets back on the bed, on his back. His legs are spread, just like they were earlier. The stranger's spend is still leaking out of him, but Peter makes no move to touch it. Instead, he plants his feet rather solidly on the bed, and waits for Derek.
For his part, Derek retrieves the lube from his bedside table. Obviously, Peter had come leaking out of him and slicking the way, but Derek has no such thing, and he certainly doesn't intend on using the same thing Peter did.
He starts with a punishing two fingers, right off the bat. Even slicked, he's far too tight, but he's also impatient. The fact that Peter's just gone out and gotten fucked by some stranger - he was wrong to think that he ever didn't need this. Derek almost had himself convinced that he could have Peter in his life without this, but clearly, too much has changed between them for that to be possible.
But that's alright. He's been too passive, and he won't make that fucking mistake again. He'll have to keep Peter on a short leash to keep him close. Maybe Peter will resent him for it.
Derek doesn't fucking care. Not anymore. Peter has to be his for this to work.
He adds the third finger far too soon, stretching them without any thought or care to his pleasure in a frightening parallel to the way that he'd treated Peter the first time. He will be taking pleasure from Peter and his body, though. He doesn't know if Peter's pleasure was accidental or not that first time, but his will not be. His will be entirely on purpose.
Finally, Derek straddles Peter's hips. He doesn't line him up just yet, though.
"Was he on top of you, Peter? Did you let him take control of your body?"
Peter stares up at him like he's something long-lost to Peter, and also like it's the very first time he's seeing him.
"Yes, he was on top of me," he says cautiously, like he doesn't know what the right answer is. It rings as true for Derek, though, which is really the important part; is really the point.
Derek nods, then. "This is different from that. Do you understand that?"
He doesn't wait for an answer before he does take hold of Peter's cock, giving him a cursory stroke with his hand that's still wet with lube, and lines himself up. It's not sinking down in one long, smooth stroke like he'd like it to be, but he's not prepped enough for that to work.
He stops and starts a few times, trying to really get seated. The first time that Peter tries to help by holding Derek's hips and adjusting, he slaps his hands away and forces himself down. It's not exactly pleasant, but it's not unpleasant, either.
The groan that it punches out from deep inside Peter's chest is certainly worth it, too. Derek stays still for a bit, minutely rocking his hips as he adjusts to being so full. He's bottomed before, infrequently, but something feels different about it. Maybe it's just the position - he's never ridden someone like this before, like he's about to - but that's not all it is, he doesn't think.
"Do you want to fuck strangers, Peter? Is that something that you need?"
Derek's not sure when Peter closed his eyes, but they fly open and lock with his own at the question. Well, the combination of the question and the tone. Because Derek asks this very calmly, and carefully. Not with the anger and upset that he felt immediately after finding Peter in his bed this time.
Derek can be reasonable. If this is something that Peter needs, he won't deny it to him. They'll figure out rules, or something like that. Honestly, Derek's not excited by that prospect, but he knows now that he needs Peter. He'll make it work if he has to.
But if this was just a ploy to get Derek's attention, to rile him up, then that's a different story entirely. He needs to make it clear to Peter what this is to him, and what the expectations are.
Peter's struggling to answer, and Derek takes pity on him. He can't have expected this as the outcome of whatever he'd planned, so it's taking some time for him to catch up. That's alright; he can help.
"Let me ask this, then: Do you want to fuck me, Peter? And do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," Peter confirms, and Derek continues grinding on him, just a little bit harder at the affirmative answer.
"Good, that's good." Derek knows that he sounds condescending when he says it, but it's truly not his intention. "And can you be satisfied with that, or do you need something else? Someone else?"
"No," Peter almost cries. It's not a tone that Derek thinks he's heard from Peter before, but he resolves to make him sound like that more often. He thinks that he likes the sound of Peter genuinely desperate.
"Then we're in agreement. You're mine, Peter, and if you try to pull something like this again, we're done. It won't be a fight, it won't work out like this. I'll be done with you, and you'll no longer be a part of this pack. Are we clear?"
Peter does let out a sob, then, but it's not enough to serve as confirmation for Derek.
"Hey, I asked you a question. Do you understand me?"
"I do, please, I understand," Peter says desperately, and Derek catches motion as Peter's hands clench in the sheets like it's taking all of his self-control not to touch Derek right now.
He smiles, satisfied, and hunches over to capture Peter's lips in a biting kiss. It might more be teeth than it is lips, anyway, but if Peter has protests, he doesn't share them. There's blood in both of their mouths, and Derek can't deny that it feels right.
Their history is soaked in blood, and their future will be, too. That's right.
He finally starts actually starting to ride Peter. Not necessarily in earnest, because the stretch is still a lot, but by the noise he starts making, Derek would think it's the best thing he's ever felt. Fucking good. It should be.
"You can have this, Peter. You don't have to trick me into it, or bother me into it. You can ask for it, and I'll give it to you. It's that fucking simple. I know you like your games, and your manipulation, but that doesn't extend to this. This can be simple, between us, if you'll just fucking let it be simple."
Derek means every single word of it. His pack is in goddamn shambles, and he has no idea if rebuilding it is even going to be possible. It's a problem, it's complex, everything is so complicated. If he can just have this with Peter, let this be one thing he doesn't have to question, it'll improve the situation. It's that simple for him, and he just needs to get that through to Peter.
Peter is still moaning beneath him, especially as Derek picks up the pace. His hands are still clenched in the sheets, so Derek pauses to bring them up to hold his hips.
"See? Simple. You want to touch me, you can touch me. No bullshit rules or anything like that, Peter. Let this be a good, simple thing."
"I want that, too," Peter says, and Derek doesn't think he'd be capable of lying right now even if he desperately wanted to. Either way, Derek certainly doesn't sense a lie in the words, and he feels victorious about it. "I never knew how to ask for it. Not from you. Not when it always felt so - so - "
"Wrong?" Derek's angry again. "That's because it is, Peter. It's wrong. Just like it was wrong when you killed my sister, and everyone else you took out on your little killing spree. Save for Kate, of course. Just like it was wrong when I killed you. Just like it was wrong the way you looked at me before all that, and the way that I looked back. I've decided that it being wrong isn't going to stop me. Are you going to get out of your own way about it?"
Peter's quiet again, just like he's been through almost all of these encounters, but it's different this time. His eyes are still wet, but he finally looks like he gets it. Maybe that was Derek's fault, for turning a blind eye to the way Peter was going about it for so long. There's blame enough to go around, that's for certain.
Derek slams his hips down again, pinning Peter perfectly still with his body, and takes his chin in his hands to force him to meet his eyes. "You're not going to be silent during this anymore. You're going to ask me for what you want. I'm going to tell you what I want. We're going to make this work for whatever time we have left before someone or something comes along and kills us, and we're not going to go out without a fight."
Peter comes as Derek finishes his tirade, and when Derek finishes taking his pleasure from his body, he stays.