What's To Come And More

The Triskelion was a labyrinth of cold steel and fluorescent lights, its sterile halls echoing with the faint hum of machinery. Stiles and Damon were led to a temporary holding room, their movements stiff and guarded. 

The tension between them was palpable, a storm of unspoken words and raw emotions. Stiles could feel Damon's eyes on him, heavy and searching, but he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his mind racing.

The room they were placed in was small but comfortable, a stark contrast to the interrogation cell. A couch, a table, and a few chairs were the only furnishings, but it felt almost homely compared to the rest of the facility. 

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving them alone for the first time since the revelation.

Damon broke the silence first, his voice low and strained. "How long have you known?"

Stiles flinched, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. 

"I told you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I suspected. But I wasn't sure until... until they confirmed it."

Damon's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. He knew he was lying but he kept it at that. 

"You should've told me," he said, his voice rising slightly. "This isn't just about you, Stiles. This is my child too."

Stiles felt the words like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening with guilt and frustration. "I know that," he snapped, his voice cracking. "But I was scared, okay? I didn't know how you'd react. I didn't know if you'd even want this."

Damon's expression softened, the anger giving way to something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. 

He crossed the room in two strides, his hands reaching out to cradle Stiles' face. "You're an idiot," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Of course, I want this. I want you. I want our family."

Stiles' breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears. "Damon..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Damon said firmly, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spilled down Stiles' cheeks. "No matter what happens, we're in this together. You, me, and our baby."

Stiles let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping Damon's wrists as if anchoring himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should've told you. I just... I didn't want to lose you."

Damon's expression softened, and he pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly. "You're not going to lose me," he murmured into Stiles' hair. "Not now, not ever."

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of their shared secret pressing down on them. But for the first time in weeks, Stiles felt a flicker of hope. 

They had a long road ahead, but with Damon by his side, he knew they could face anything.

The peace was short-lived. The door creaked open, revealing Nick Fury, his expression unreadable as he stepped into the room. "We need to talk," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made Stiles' skin crawl.

Damon's arms tightened around Stiles, his body tensing as he turned to face Fury. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Fury's single eye narrowed, but he didn't rise to the bait. "You've caused a lot of damage," he said, his gaze flicking between Stiles and Damon. "Innocent people have been hurt. Lives have been lost. And now…. things have gotten even more complicated."

Stiles felt a surge of anger, his hormones making his emotions even more volatile. "Complicated?" he spat, his voice sharp. "What do you mean complicated?" So they weren't going to tell them? Instead, they had to use their super hearing to even know that they now know and they decide to keep it a secret?

Something is up and Stiles can feel it.

Fury's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—sympathy, maybe, or confusion, fear. "Just know the government is watching over you guys now," he said finally. "And I'm here to offer you a deal."

Stiles' eyes narrowed, masking his irritation and anger. "What kind of deal?"

Fury leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "You work for us. You help us take down the real threats, the ones who are causing the damage in this city. In return, we protect you. Both of you."

Damon's grip on Stiles tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. "And if we say no?"

Fury's expression hardened. "Then you're on your own. And trust me, you don't want to be on your own."

Stiles leaned back, his mind racing with the implications. He glanced at Damon, whose jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. "We'll think about it," Stiles said finally, his voice steady despite the rage inside him.

Fury nodded, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. "Don't take too long," he said, his voice cold. "Time isn't on your side."

As the door clicked shut behind Fury, leaving Stiles and Damon alone once more, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The reality of their situation settled heavily upon them like a thick fog, and every breath felt heavy with unspoken fears and uncertainties.

"What do you think?" Stiles asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't trust him," he said finally. "But he's right about one thing that time isn't on our side."

Stiles nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we work with them, we could use it as an advantage. They not telling us about my pregnancy, meaning they think we don't know about it… they are going to try and use that against us..."

Damon's expression hardened, and he pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly. "What you want to do?" he murmured into Stiles' hair. 

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, his hands gripping Damon's shirt as if anchoring himself. "I want to destroy every last one of them," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I want to wait until we have the baby and once the baby is out…."

Damon's arms tightened around him, his voice steady and sure. "And we will do just that. I will kill anyone for you"

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight pressing down on them. 

But for the first time in weeks, Stiles felt a flicker of hope. 

They had a long road ahead, but with Damon by his side, he knew they could face anything. Kill anyone.

---

As the night wore on, Stiles found himself lying on the couch, his head resting in Damon's lap. The room was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of Damon's breathing. 

Stiles' hand drifted to his stomach, his fingers brushing against the tiny spark of life growing inside him.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" Stiles asked, his voice soft.

Damon's hand stilled in Stiles' hair, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know," he said finally. "But it doesn't matter. As long as they're healthy. As long as they're ours."

Stiles felt a surge of emotion, his eyes filling with tears. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Damon's expression softened, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "I love you too," he murmured. "Always."

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, Stiles allowed himself to relax, thinking of ways to kill everyone that is considered a threat.

The transition from the sharp, sterile interior of the pattern to the familiar comfort of their home was jarring. 

The moment the door swung open, the familiar scent of wood and leather flooded Stiles' senses, but the atmosphere was now tainted by the memory of what they had left behind—what they had enjoyed doing.

"We need to clean this up," Damon said, standing in the doorway, looking about ready to get it over with. Stiles knew exactly what he meant. The aftermath of their confrontation with their enemies left a trail of destruction that could not simply be ignored.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, his voice heavy with hormones. "The bodies… and everything else."

In a haze of shadows and flickering lights, they worked side by side, gathering the remnants of their recent chaos. Stiles sighed heavily as he sat down, chewing on a heart.

"Can you hurry up," Stiles whined, ready to cuddle with him once more. He leaned against the couch, his breath coming in long gasps, trying to do something while waiting for Damon to finish.

Damon stopped, snapping his back to give Stiles and bored expression. "If you help it would go by faster," he said, his eyes lowering as he stared at Stiles.

"Use your vampire speed," Stiles groaned softly, making Damon roll his eyes. "I will be right here when you are done."

Damon stepped closer, his gaze intense. "You getting bratty. I'm going to need to fix that."

Stiles made himself get up, his eyes never leaving his. He feels a rush of excitement and mischief. Smirking softly, he walks up to Damon seductively, biting his lips, edging Damon on.

"Then fix it." Reaching him, he runs his finger down Damon's muscled chest, rubbing at his abs once reaching there.

Damon, not able to hold himself, grabbed Stiles by the waist, pulling him even more closer, smashing his lips onto his.

Stiles moans, gripping his abs tightly before pulling him closer around his neck.

"Let's take this to the bedroom," Damon growled against Stiles' lips, his hands already roaming possessively over Stiles' body.

Stiles nodded eagerly, his pulse racing with anticipation. In a flash, Damon had scooped him up bridal style and sped them upstairs, tossing Stiles playfully onto the bed. 

Clothes were shed in a frenzy of grasping hands and urgent kisses. Damon pinned Stiles beneath him, his hard cock rubbing against Stiles' stomach as he captured his lips in a searing kiss.

"Fuck, I need you," Stiles panted, wrapping his legs around Damon's hips and pulling him closer. "I want you inside me when I come."

Damon groaned, reaching for the lube. He prepped Stiles thoroughly but quickly, neither of them having the patience for drawn-out foreplay. 

Stiles cried out as Damon entered him with one hard thrust, filling and stretching him perfectly. "Yes, Damon! Just like that...fuck me hard!"

Damon set a punishing pace, snapping his hips and pegging Stiles' prostate with every stroke. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and Stiles' wanton moans.

"Ungh, your cock feels so good," Stiles babbled, meeting Damon thrust for thrust. "I'm gonna come soon, make me come all over myself!"

Damon wrapped a hand around Stiles' dripping cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Come for me baby. Wanna feel you clenching around me."

With a keening cry, Stiles came hard, stripping his chest and stomach with thick ropes of cum. The sight and feel of Stiles coming undone triggered Damon's own release and he flooded Stiles' hole with his hot seed.

They collapsed together in a boneless heap, chests heaving. Damon pulled Stiles into his arms, peppering his face with soft kisses as they basked in the afterglow.

"I love you so much," Stiles murmured, snuggling deeper into Damon's embrace. Damon hummed in agreement, his hands stroking lazy patterns on Stiles' back.

---

The next morning, Stiles and Damon lay tangled together in bed, enjoying a few moments of peace before facing the challenges ahead. Stiles traced idle patterns on Damon's chest as they talked.

"We need to start making plans," Damon said. "Figure out our next moves to eliminate these threats for good, especially with the baby coming. And we need to discuss telling Wanda about your relation."

Stiles nodded. "Agreed. We should make a list of everyone we need to take out. Prioritize the biggest dangers first and work our way down. As for Wanda, I think we should tell her sooner rather than later. She deserves to know the truth."

"I can reach out to some of my contacts and see if they heard any chatter about who might be gunning for us," Damon suggested. "The more intel we have going in, the better. And I agree about Wanda. Maybe we could invite her over for dinner and tell her then? It might be easier in a more relaxed setting."

"Good thinking," Stiles replied. "I'll do some digging of my own too on potential enemies. See if I can uncover any weaknesses or pressure points we can exploit to take them down. Let's plan on telling Wanda this weekend. Give us a few days to prepare what we want to say."

Damon pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple. "We'll get through all of this," he promised. "No one is going to hurt our family. And Wanda will understand. She may be surprised at first, but she will love you. That alone will only make you two closer."

Stiles smiled softly. "I know. Together we can handle anything. I'm just anxious to get it all out in the open."

After their heartfelt conversation, Stiles and Damon came together in a tender embrace, their bodies intertwined as they made love with gentle passion. Damon took his time exploring every inch of Stiles' skin, trailing soft kisses down his neck and collarbone, savoring the taste and feel of him.

Stiles sighed with pleasure, arching into Damon's touch. He ran his fingers through Damon's hair, over his shoulders, mapping the planes of his body as if committing them to memory. They moved together in perfect sync, their breath mingling, pulses racing in time.

Damon's hands skimmed down Stiles' sides, thumbs brushing his hipbones before dipping lower. He cupped Stiles' ass, squeezing gently as he ground their erections together. Stiles moaned, caressing his hips to meet Damon's strokes.

They took their time, the urgency of earlier giving way to reverent caresses and whispered endearments. Damon mouthed along the curve of Stiles' ear, his breath hot as he murmured how much he loved him, how beautiful he was, how good he felt.

Stiles trembled, overcome by sensation and emotion. He felt cherished, worshipped, every touch infused with Damon's adoration. Tears pricked his eyes as the intensity built between them.

Damon shifted, reaching for the lube. He prepped Stiles with gentle care, opening him slowly, tenderly. Stiles clung to him, legs wrapping around Damon's waist as he was breached, bodies joining as intimately as their hearts.

They rocked together, Damon's thrusts deep and measured, stoking the fire between them. Stiles met him move for move, his body pliant and eager. The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking - soft moans and whispered pleas, the slide of skin on skin.

Damon angled his hips, targeting Stiles' prostate. Stiles cried out, fingernails digging into Damon's back as the pleasure crested. "Damon, please," he panted. "I need..."

"I know," Damon soothed. "I've got you." He reached between them, wrapping his fist around Stiles' straining cock. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."

Stiles tumbled over the edge with a keening cry, spilling between their bodies. Damon followed a moment later, Stiles' name a prayer on his lips as he emptied himself deep inside his lover.

They collapsed together in a tangle of limp limbs, chests heaving. Damon peppered Stiles' face with soft kisses, tasting the salt of tears and sweat. Stiles clung to him, boneless and sated.

"I love you," Damon whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "So much."

"I love you too," Stiles replied, his throat tight. "More than anything."

They lay together in contented silence, basking in the afterglow, secure in their love and ready to face whatever the future might bring. And what they might destroy.