A Picnic in the Shadows

The forest was a sanctuary, a place where the chaos of the supernatural world could be momentarily forgotten. The sun hung high in the sky, casting dappled light through the canopy of trees, and the air was alive with the soft hum of insects and the occasional trill of birdsong. Stiles and Damon had chosen this spot carefully, a small clearing deep in the woods where they could be alone—truly alone—for the first time in weeks.

The picnic blanket was a patchwork of red and gold, the sort of thing you'd find in an old country store, and it was spread out over the soft, mossy ground. A wicker basket sat between them, filled with an assortment of foods: crusty bread, ripe strawberries, and a bottle of red wine that Damon had procured from somewhere. Stiles wasn't sure if it was stolen or not, but he decided not to ask. Today was about forgetting the chaos, if only for a little while.

"You know," Stiles said, leaning back on his elbows, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say this was almost… normal."

Damon chuckled, the sound low and warm as he poured two glasses of wine. "Normal is overrated," he said, handing one to Stiles. "But I'll admit, this is nice. Just us. No vampires, no witches, no life-threatening danger. For once."

Stiles took the glass, his fingers brushing against Damon's as he did. The contact was electric, sending a shiver down his spine. He took a sip of the wine, the rich, velvety flavor warming him from the inside out. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer now. "It is nice."

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the occasional crunch of bread. But the silence wasn't awkward—it was comfortable, the kind that only comes when two people know each other so well that words aren't always necessary.

Stiles could feel Damon's gaze on him, heavy and intense, and it made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. When they'd finished eating, Damon set his glass aside and moved closer, his eyes never leaving Stiles's.

"You've got a little something," he said, his voice trailing off as he reached out, his thumb brushing against the corner of Stiles's mouth. Stiles's breath hitched, his lips parting as Damon's thumb lingered, the touch sending a jolt of heat through him. "Do I now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damon's smirk was slow and wicked, his eyes dark with intent. "Yeah," he murmured, leaning in closer. "You do." Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but quickly turned searing. Damon's hand slid into Stiles's hair, gripping it with just enough pressure to make Stiles moan into his mouth. Stiles's hands found Damon's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled him closer, their bodies pressing together.

The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, teeth clashing, the heat between them growing with every passing second. Stiles could feel Damon's hardness pressing against his thigh, and it sent a spike of desire through him that made his head spin.

Damon's hands roamed over his body, tracing the lines of his ribs and sliding down to grip his hips, and Stiles thought he might lose himself in the sensation.But then, the sound of footsteps.At first, it was soft, almost imperceptible, but Stiles's instincts kicked in, and he pulled away from Damon, his body tense.

Damon's eyes flicked to the treeline, his expression hardening as he heard it too."We're not alone," Damon growled, his voice low and dangerous.Stiles stood, his body thrumming with adrenaline as the footsteps grew louder, more deliberate. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the animals falling silent as the intruders approached.

And then, they emerged from the shadows—a group of witches and vampires, their eyes gleaming with malice.The witches were draped in dark cloaks, their hands crackling with energy as they prepared their spells. The vampires were sleek and predatory, their fangs bared, their movements fluid and deadly. Stiles counted at least six of them, and he knew this wasn't going to be easy."Well," Damon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "looks like our date just got interesting."Stiles snorted, despite the tension. "You have a weird definition of interesting."The first attack came without warning.

A witch hurled a bolt of energy at Stiles, and he barely managed to dodge it, the spell scorching the ground where he'd been standing. Damon lunged at the nearest vampire, his fangs bared as he tore into the creature's throat with brutal efficiency. The clearing erupted into chaos. Spells flew through the air, the smell of ozone and blood mixing with the earthy scent of the forest. Stiles moved with a speed that still surprised him, his ghoul strength and agility allowing him to dodge attacks and strike back with lethal precision.

He grabbed a fallen branch and swung it at a witch, the wood cracking against her skull with a sickening crunch. Damon was a whirlwind of violence, his movements almost too fast to follow. He tore through the vampires with a ferocity that left Stiles in awe, his fangs flashing as he dispatched one enemy after another.

But the witches were proving to be more difficult, their spells forcing them to constantly stay on the defensive.Stiles felt a surge of anger as one of the witches managed to land a hit, a spell hitting him square in the chest and sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of his lungs, but he rolled to his feet just in time to avoid another attack. His eyes glowed with a feral light, his ghoulish side taking over as he unleashed his full power. He moved like a predator, his body a blur as he tore through the remaining witches, his hands like claws as he ripped and tore with a savage fury.

The last witch fell to the ground, her throat torn out, and Stiles stood over her, his chest heaving, his hands dripping with blood. The clearing was silent now; the only sounds were the ragged breathing of Stiles and Damon and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind.

The ground was littered with bodies, the scent of blood thick in the air. Stiles turned to Damon, his eyes still glowing, his body thrumming with power. Damon's gaze was heavy, his lips curled into a feral grin as he took in the sight of Stiles, covered in blood, his chest heaving with exertion. The raw, unbridled power emanating from Stiles was intoxicating, and Damon could feel his own arousal burning hot in his veins.

"God, you're beautiful," Damon growled, closing the distance between them in an instant.Their lips crashed together in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, the taste of blood and sweat mingling as they fought for dominance. Damon's hands gripped Stiles's hips, pulling him closer, his hardness pressing against Stiles's with an urgency that left them both gasping. Stiles moaned into Damon's mouth, his hands tangling in Damon's hair as they fell to the ground, the soft moss cushioning their fall.

Damon's hands roamed over Stiles's body, gripping and pulling with a possessiveness that sent shivers down Stiles's spine. He could feel Damon's fangs pressing against his lips, the danger of it only heightening his arousal. They moved together, their bodies grinding, the heat between them building until it was unbearable. Damon's hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing the lines of Stiles's body, slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Stiles arched into the touch, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Damon's lips trailed down his neck, biting and sucking in a way that left Stiles gasping.

"Damon," Stiles moaned, his voice trembling with need.Damon growled in response, his hands fumbling with the waistband of Stiles's jeans, pulling them down just enough to free Stiles's aching hardness. He wrapped his hand around Stiles, stroking him with a firm, steady rhythm that left Stiles trembling. Stiles's head fell back, his hips bucking into Damon's hand as pleasure coursed through him like a wildfire. Damon's lips were on his again, the kiss searing and desperate as they moved together, their bodies pressed so close that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Release came in a rush, Stiles's body shuddering as he came, his cry echoing through the forest. Damon followed him a moment later, his own climax hitting him with a force that left him gasping against Stiles's neck. They lay there for a while, tangled in each other's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the chaos of the battle and the bloodshed a distant memory as they basked in the aftermath of their passion. The forest was quiet once more, the only sounds the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird.

Finally, Damon broke the silence, his voice rough and low. "We should probably get back," he said, pressing a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "The pack will be wondering where we are."Stiles nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice soft. "But can we just... stay like this for a little longer?"

Damon chuckled, his arms tightening around Stiles. "As long as you want," he murmured.They stayed like that for a while longer, the warmth of their bodies keeping the chill of the forest at bay.

Eventually, they roused themselves, cleaning up as best they could and gathering their things. By the time they made their way back to the McCall pack house, the sun was beginning to set, casting the forest in a warm, golden light.As they walked, Stiles couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, despite the chaos they'd faced. He had Damon by his side, and that was enough. Whatever challenges the future held, they would face them together. And knowing that made Stiles feel like he could take on the world.