It was nearly an hour later, after a slightly awkward discussion as to whether Stiles wanted to carry on what they had been doing and bottom first or change it up where he had decided to keep going down the road they were on; Derek had spent ages opening him up with lube and fingers and Stiles had probably recited the dictionary several times over while magic rippled under his skin, that Derek finally pushed into him and barrel number three of their magical combination lock clicked into place.

As far as Stiles was concerned sex was amazing and so he told Derek exactly how amazing for as long as he could, until he came again with magic blowing his mind at the same time.

After that his erection just didn't seem to want to go away and he couldn't for the life of him stop touching Derek. He wasn't sure if Derek had even come yet, but all he knew was he wanted to make Derek explode and he wanted to be inside Derek when that happened. It was a goal and he could occasionally be very focused when the goal was important. Thankfully Derek seemed perfectly happy to help him to his goal, guiding him and offering up whatever he wanted.

If he was honest it was all a bit dreamlike and he knew time passed, but he wasn't sure exactly how he ended up between Derek's legs sinking into warm, slick heat and gazing into Derek's bright eyes. The magical sensations were beginning to take over from the physical ones. The real world was what he could only describe as fluffy on the edges as Stiles' awareness split between two planes. He was trying to keep a rhythm as he stared down at Derek, but his body just wasn't responding fast enough to his brain.

"Stiles," Derek said, voice tight with arousal and need, but laced with concern.

It was a good thing too, because he seemed to lose all coordination for a moment and ended up leaning over Derek and slipping out of him completely. The power was prickling his skin and urging him on, but he couldn't seem to do it.

"Need to keep going," he said, trying to push back onto his knees.

He only managed to miss clumsily and then Derek was helping him to lie down on the bed.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"Magic," he said and grabbed Derek as his lover tried to move away. "Need to finish."

His vision wasn't whiting out this time, but something else did flash into his mind's eye every few seconds.

"Please," he begged, because things were happening and he needed Derek.

"Okay," Derek agreed and Stiles went to try and sit up, but Derek pushed him down onto his back. "Let me," Derek told him.

He really wasn't ready for the show of athleticism as Derek straddled him, took hold of his cock in a very firm manner and then slid down onto it. For a moment his vision did flash and it had nothing to do with magic.

"Yes," he said as his body and magic responded.

Derek rocked above him doing all the work again, but Stiles didn't have the time or thought processes to feel guilty. He was reaching for something on both the magical and physical levels and with every move Derek made Stiles was closer to both. His body was tightening with the familiar pressure of an approaching orgasm, but his magic was spreading out.

"Pack," he said breathlessly. "Derek, I can feel them, I can feel you."

He didn't know how to explain it. They were all there: Scott, all bright and warm with a shadow around him; Alison and Isaac, somewhere close together, all but tangled; Lydia, sharp and soft at the same time; Ethan and Aiden, two and yet one and oh so very broken; then there was Derek, so bright and so close that he almost blinded Stiles as Derek's presence flooded him with warmth and need.

For just a moment he felt them and he thought he felt echoes of the same coming back at him before he fell apart, surrendering to his orgasm and to the power inside of him. The magic that had joined with him when he and Derek first kissed and had built at every stage settled into his very core and spread from him, through him and Derek to the rest of the pack.

It was the most mind-blowing experience of his young life. He was pretty sure he yelled something along with what sounded suspiciously like a howl from Derek as the power took them.

He lay there staring at nothing, panting for what seemed like an age with Derek all but collapsed on top of him.

"Derek," he finally said, patting Derek's shoulder.

Derek mumbled something back, but Stiles had no idea what it was.

"Derek, are you okay?" he asked, kicking his brain into something resembling reality as he began to worry.

"Fine," Derek managed to be coherent this time, "just can't move. That was ..."

"Yeah," he agreed; he couldn't put it into words either.

After another few moments that definitely felt like Derek trying to gather the will, Derek climbed off of him and collapsed onto the bed in what was a very uncoordinated display. That made Stiles feel somewhat better about his performance at least.

"Did you feel them?" he asked.

"Yes," Derek replied, lying on his back with his eyes closed.

"They're our pack," Stiles said in wonder, "even jerkoff 1 and jerkoff 2."

Derek snorted a laugh at that and Stiles could feel his body coming back under his control, so he had to assume the same was true of Derek. He grinned to himself as the mystical fog left him and he slowly pushed up on one elbow.

"Deaton said I should be able to turn into a wolf," he said as his brain kicked back into gear.

"You're thinking about that now, really?" Derek looked at him askance.

"I think about everything all the time," he replied. "I'm also considering how many other sexual position we have to try out, if my recovery time was to do with the whole mystical thing we had going, or if it's the whole wolfy, but not wolfy thing and a hundred other things you probably don't want to hear about."

The way Derek's eyes dragged all the way down his body and back again at the mention of sexual positions made him swallow rather hard.

"How about we find out about recovery time while you tell me all about these sexual positions and then we can worry about the wolf stuff later?" Derek suggested.

Stiles could get on board with that.

"Well that table," he said and pointed, "it's just begging for claw marks."