Do not enter the west wing

The Beast was behaving strangely.

Stiles couldn't help but feel sorry for Derek's bad mood, seeing him return to old bad habits, mistreating the unfortunate first man on duty. In the latter period, Derek had become pleasant company and his gruff manner had softened. 

From being his prisoner - after giving himself up for his father's freedom - and feeling a grudge and hatred for the Beast, Stiles had first become friends with Derek and then something more.

Stiles knew something was wrong, but no one in the castle seemed willing to tell him what. Everyone reassured him that soon Derek would be the same as ever again.

Stiles believed them, at least until Derek barricaded himself in the west wing, ordering no one to enter. That's when Stiles realized that whatever was wrong with Derek had to be serious.

Worried, ignoring any warnings from the servants, the boy sneaked into Derek's rooms to force him to reveal what the problem was. 

He certainly didn't expect to find Derek in heat.

The Beast was writhing on the blankets, panting heavily.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Derek yelled at the curious boy, trying to hide himself and his nakedness in the blankets.

"I was worried. I wanted to see if you were okay." Stiles explained, embarrassed by the situation.

Derek groaned. It was a mixed sound of frustration and pain.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look good." Stiles cautiously approached the bed the Beast lay on. "How can I help you?"

"You can not." Derek growled, clawing at the sheets. "Now go away."

"There must be something I can do." The boy insisted.

"Unless you want to get fucked brutally, get out of this damn room!"

Stiles pulled back, blushing violently.

"You would never hurt me."

Derek laughed derisively. "How can you be so sure?"

"You spontaneously shut yourself in here to avoid hurting anyone." Stiles pointed out. "If you wanted to harm me or someone else, you wouldn't have taken these safety measures." 

The boy sat on the bed, reaching a hand towards the Beast's back. 

"Derek, please, let me help you."

"I already told you the only way you could help me." The Beast stubbornly retorted. 

The boy's fingers moved in the beast's fur. Derek sighed happily.

"W-what are you doing?" He asked, shocked by the gesture he couldn't ignore.

"I am trying to help."

Derek groaned in pleasure as Stiles' fingers scratched behind his ears.

"Stiles, this isn't helping." He warned, trying to ignore the good smell of the young man sitting behind him.

"I think so." Stiles sarcastically replied.

The beast came out of the covers, locking the impertinent boy under his mighty body.

"I don't think you understand the danger of the situation." The beast scolded him. "You better go now, or I-"

"Just do it."

Derek's eyes widened.

Stiles was staring at him confidently, his face completely red.

"Do it, Derek." The boy repeated. 

The beast roared, ripping the blankets with its claws, its control starting to falter dangerously.

"You will regret it." 

The young man encircled the beast's hairy face with his hands, bringing his lips to Derek's muzzle without any fear.

"Never."