A Love Worth Protecting

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of their bedroom, casting a warm golden glow over the room. Stiles stirred awake, his body still humming with the remnants of the previous night's passion. He turned to find Damon lying beside him, his arm draped protectively over Stiles' waist. The sight brought a soft smile to Stiles' lips, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from Damon's forehead.

Damon doesn't know it but he would kill for him. He would destroy the world for him. He would make a planet if he needed to.

Damon's eyes fluttered open, and he pulled Stiles closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," Stiles replied, his voice soft and content. He nestled closer to Damon, savoring the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, they simply lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside their bedroom fading away.

But the peace was short-lived. The weight of their situation pressed down on them, a constant reminder of the challenges they faced. Stiles sighed, his hand drifting to his stomach, where the tiny spark of life was growing. "We need to talk about what's next," he said finally, his voice heavy with emotion.

Damon nodded, his expression serious. "I know," he said, his voice steady. "We need to make plans. Figure out our next moves."

---

They spent the morning in the kitchen, a pot of coffee brewing as they sat at the table with a notebook and pen. Stiles tapped the pen against the paper, his mind racing as he tried to organize his thoughts. "We need to make a list of everyone who's a threat," he said finally, his voice firm. "Prioritize the biggest dangers first and work our way down."

Damon nodded, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "There's Fury and SHIELD," he said, his voice low. "They're the most immediate threat. But we also have to consider the other agencies, the ones who might be working behind the scenes."

Stiles scribbled down the names, his hand trembling slightly as he wrote. "And then there's the supernatural threats," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. "The ones who might come after us because of what we are."

Damon reached out, his hand covering Stiles' and stilling his movements. "We'll handle them," he said firmly. "Together. No one is going to hurt our family."

Stiles nodded, his eyes filling with tears. "I know," he whispered. "But it's still scary. The thought of bringing a child into this world, with all this chaos..."

Damon's expression softened, and he pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly. "We'll protect them," he murmured into Stiles' hair. "No matter what."

---

Later that evening, they sat down with Wanda, the atmosphere in the room tense but hopeful. Stiles had spent the day preparing dinner, his nerves making him fidgety as he moved around the kitchen. Damon had tried to calm him, but even he was feeling the weight of the conversation they were about to have.

Wanda arrived just as the sun was setting, her presence a comforting familiarity in the midst of their chaos. She hugged Stiles tightly, her eyes filled with concern. "How are you holding up?" she asked, her voice soft.

Stiles forced a smile, his hand drifting to his stomach. "We're managing," he said finally, his voice heavy with emotion. "But there's something we need to tell you."

They sat down at the table, the food forgotten as Stiles and Damon explained everything—the pregnancy, the threats, their plans to protect their family. Wanda listened in silence, her expression unreadable as she processed the information.

When they finished, she reached out, her hand covering Stiles'. "I'm here for you," she said finally, her voice steady. "Whatever you need, I'll help."

Stiles felt a surge of emotion, his eyes filling with tears. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "That means more than you know."

---

Later that evening, after Wanda had gone home, Stiles and Damon retreated to their cozy cabin hidden away in the idyllic woods for a much-needed escape from the tumult of their lives. The stress of the past few days weighed heavily on them, and they craved the solace of each other's company.

Stiles moved around the kitchen, preparing a special meal to satisfy his unique cravings. He fried a plate of crispy fish skins for his siren side, relishing the briny taste that crackled delightfully against his palate. For his ghoul half, he seared some human flesh, the cooking aromas wafting through the air, igniting his hunger. And to round it out, he slathered some toast with peanut butter and pickles—a bizarre pregnancy craving he couldn't resist but wholeheartedly indulged.

Damon watched on from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a smile playing at his lips. "Quite the feast you've got there," he teased lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Stiles grinned back unabashedly. "This baby wants what it wants. And so do I." He loaded up a plate with a mix of tantalizing creations and carried it over to the couch where Damon sat, the space between them adorned with soft cushions and blankets.

They spent the evening snuggled together, their laughter echoing through the room as they fed each other bites of food in between stolen kisses. The atmosphere was light and playful, a welcome respite from the intensity that had recently enveloped them.

They shared stories and dreams, delighted in the simple joys of being alive and together.

As the night wore on, Damon took Stiles' hand and led him out to the backyard, where the air was crisp and refreshing. 

Stiles gasped softly when he saw what Damon had prepared—a cozy fire crackling in the outdoor fireplace, casting a warm glow against the backdrop of a starlit sky. A soft blanket was spread out nearby, surrounded by twinkling string lights that danced like fireflies. A projector had been set up, ready to play a romantic movie against the backdrop of the night.

Stiles turned to Damon, awe shining in his eyes. "When did you have time to do all this?" he asked softly, his heart swelling with affection.

Damon pulled him close, his breath ghosting over Stiles' neck. "I always have time for you," he murmured. "I wanted tonight to be special. Just for us."

They settled onto the blanket, entwining their fingers as soft music drifted from the speakers and the movie began to play. But they only had eyes for each other. Slowly, tenderly, they began to kiss, savoring the taste of each other's lips, sending electric sparks coursing through their bodies.

The kisses deepened, grew heated, their bodies instinctively pressing closer as hands roamed, stroking and caressing. Clothes were shed, tossed aside carelessly in the moonlit night. 

Stiles pushed Damon onto his back, straddling his hips with a mischievous grin, rocking slowly against him, their hard lengths sliding together with delicious friction.

Damon's hands gripped Stiles' hips, guiding his movements with fervor. "Fuck, Stiles," he groaned, voice thick with desire. "You feel so good. I want you."

Stiles reached for the lube they'd brought out, slicking his fingers with practiced ease. He took his time preparing himself, revelling in the sweet anticipation, while Damon watched with hooded eyes, drinking in the sight of him, his lips parted in longing.

Finally, Stiles sank down onto Damon's rigid length, taking him to the hilt. They both cried out, overwhelmed by the exquisite sensation, their bodies trembling from the intensity. Stiles began to move, rolling his hips in a sensual rhythm, the ache of pleasure building between them as Damon surged upward, thrusting into Stiles' receptive heat.

They made love beneath the canopy of stars, the firelight flickering and casting playful shadows over their entwined bodies. The night air was filled with the sounds of their passion—whispered words of love, moans of pleasure, the erotic slap of flesh against flesh echoing like a primal chant.

Stiles angled his hips, changing the angle. Damon's next thrust hit his prostate head-on, and Stiles howled in bliss, his nails digging into Damon's chiseled chest. "Yes, right there! Fuck me harder!"

Damon obliged, snapping his hips with ruthless force. Each thrust was relentless, pistoning into Stiles with fierce urgency, pushing him closer to the brink. Stiles was reduced to a writhing, mewling creature of need, desperate for more.

The tension built between them, coiling tighter, hotter, every thrust drawing them closer to euphoria. Damon reached between them, his hand fisting Striles' weeping cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby," he rasped, voice thick with emotion. "Wanna feel you."

With a desperate cry, Stiles tumbled over the edge, spilling himself across their bodies, thick ropes of his essence streaking their chests. The clenching of his walls around Damon triggered the vampire's own release. With a growl, he buried himself to the hilt and filled Stiles with his seed, their bodies melding together in a euphoric union.

They collapsed together in a boneless sprawl, chests heaving as they basked in the afterglow, the cooling night air blissful against their sweat-slicked skin. They lay tangled together, hearts racing, marveling in the fierce love they shared.

Eventually, they roused themselves, wiping away the traces of their passion with lazy strokes of a damp cloth. Clothed only in soft pajama pants, they curled up on the couch in front of the fire, Stiles nestling in the curve of Damon's body, safe and cherished.

No more words were needed. Their bodies had communicated everything that mattered, and in the silence, they found solace. They drifted off to sleep together, replete and content, ready to face whatever the future might throw at them, as long as they had each other.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over their peaceful faces—a benediction and a promise all in one. They were together, enveloped in the warmth of their love. They were home. And for now, that was more than enough.